ll,:lf   lln 

No. 


THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

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OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 

GIFT  OF 

California  State  Library 


ibrarij. 


SECTION-  <>f  all 

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tin  Library. 


T.S.ARTHUR'S  NEW   WORKS. 


I.  —  OUT   IN   THE    WORLD. 
II.  —  LIGHT   ON   SHADOWED    PATHS. 
III.  —  NOTHING   BUT  MONEY. 

iv.  —  RETRIBUTION.     In  press. 


All  published  uniform  with  this  volume,  at  $1.50,  and  sent 
free  by  mail  on  receipt  of  price, 

by 

Carleton,  Publisher, 
]Vew  Yorlt. 


NOTHING   BUT  MONEY. 


\ 


\ 


BY 

T.  S.  ARTHUR. 

AUTHOR  OF   "LIGHT  ON   SHADOWED  PATHS,"    "OUT  IN   THE  WORLD,"    ETC. 


NEW  YORK: 

CARLE  TO  JY,  PUBLISHER,  413  BROADWAY 
M  DCCC  LXV. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1865,  by 

G.    W.    CARLETON, 
In  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  for  the  Southern  District  of  New  York, 


CHAPTER  I. 


'HAT  is  the  price?" 

The  speaker  was  a  young  wo 
man  with  a  small  basket  on  her 
arm,  in  which  was  a  steak,  a  bunch 
of  asparagus,  and  half-a-dozen 
eggs.  She  had  lifted  a  rose  ge 
ranium  from  the  stand  of  a  mar 
ket  gardener,  and  stood  looking  at 
its  pink  and  white  blossoms  with 
admiring  eyes. 

"  Twenty-five  cents,"  replied  the  man. 
The  words  seemed  to  make  the  flower-pot  heavier, 
for  the  hand  that  held  it  went  down  suddenly,  like  a 
scale  on  receiving  additional  weight,  and  the  geranium 
took  its  place  among  the  verbenas,  pansies,  calceolaries, 
phlox  and  petunias  on  the  flower-stand. 

A  shade  of  disappointment  fell  over  the  young  wo 
man's  face. 

"  Take  it  for  twenty,"  said  the  gardener. 
There  was  only  a  silent  shake  of  the  head,  as  the 
young  woman  turned  away. 
"  Fifteen  !  " 


6  NOTHING    BUT    MONEY. 

She  lifted  the  flower  again,  pressed  a  leaf  between 
her  fingers,  and  inhaled  its  fragrance.  That  sweet  im 
pression  on  her  sense  was  the  concluding  argument. 
The  geranium  was  hers. 

Let  us  observe  this  young  woman  a  little  more  close 
ly,  as  she  moves  homeward  with  a  light  step,  carrying 
her  market-basket  in  one  hand  and  her  flower  in  the 
other.  Her  face  is  pretty  and  girlish.  Round,  blossom- 
tinted  cheeks,  fresh  and  pure  ;  soft  blue  eyes,  full  of 
nestling  loves,  and  bright  with  hopes  that  look  sweetly 
confident,  onward  toward  the  coming  years.  Her  dress 
is  of  pink  and  white  calico,  plain  in  the  body  and  fitting 
her  form  closely.  The  skirt  has  no  trimming,  and  is 
short,  displaying  a  small  foot  and  ankle.  The  foot  is 
covered  with  a  morocco  slipper ;  black  ribbons  are 
crossed  on  the  instep  and  tied  around  the  ankle.  A 
light  blue  ribbon  binds  her  slender  waist,  two  long  ends 
falling  at  the  side  and  fluttering  in  the  fresh  June  air, 
as  she  goes  tripping  on  her  homeward  way.  A  cottage 
bonnet  of  straw,  simply  trimmed  with  a  band  of  puffed 
ribbon,  throws  her  face  into  half  shadow,  and  gives  it  a 
softer  beauty.  She  is  twenty  —  no  more. 

There  is  nothing  striking  or  unusual  in  the  appear 
ance  of  this  young  person  ;  and  yet,  as  she  passes  along, 
one  and  another  turn  and  glance  back  for  a  second  ob 
servation.  There  may  be  two  reasons  —  the  harmony 
and  good  taste  manifest  in  her  plain  attire,  and  the  calm 
sweetness  of  her  fair  young  countenance.  Thus  far, 
life  has  been  to  her  a  pleasant  experience.  But  this 
need  not  be  told  —  you  see  it  at  a  glance. 

Not  far  away  from  the  market-house  stands  a  small 


NOTHING    BUT    MONEY.  7 

brick  dwelling,  two  stories  high.  It  is  new,  with  a 
white  front  door,  and  green  venitian  shutters  at  the 
windows  of  both  stories.  The  street  door  opens  into  a 
little  parlor.  We  will  take  an  inventory  of  the  furni 
ture.  On  the  floor  is  a  red  and  green  ingrain  carpet, 
and  six  drab-colored  Windsor  chairs  look  at  each  other 
from  the  opposite  walls.  A  small  mahogany  table  ;  a 
narrow  mantel  glass,  flanked  by  two  tall  lamps  ;  brass 
andirons  and  fender,  with  shovel  and  tongs  ;  and  a  pair 
of  conch  shells  in  the  fire-place  —  complete  the  attire 
of  this  first  and  best  room.  Next  to  it  is  the  breakfast 
and  sitting-room.  On  the  floor  of  this  is  a  rag  carpet, 
woven  in  red,  yellow,  green,  and  white  stripes.  A 
small  pine  table,  stained  red,  standing  in  the  centre  of 
the  room,  is  covered  with  a  snowy  table-cloth  and  set 
with  breakfast-things  for  two.  Four  Windsor  chairs,  a 
mahogany  work-stand,  a  pair  of  broad-bottomed  brass 
candlesticks  on  the  mantel-piece,  and  a  few  unimportant 
trifles,  complete  the  furniture  of  this  apartment.  Open 
ing  from  this  room  is  a  small  kitchen  ;  above  are  two 
chambers,  and  above  these  two  attics. 

The  dwelling  and  its  furniture  are  humble.  We 
have  the  abode  of  a  young  married  couple,  beginning 
the  world,  according  to  their  means,  in  the  most  unam 
bitious  manner.  The  rent  of  this  house  is  one  hundred 
and  fifty  dollars  a  year ;  the  entire  cost  of  the  furniture 
three  hundred.  Enough  had  been  laid  up  by  the  young- 
husband  to  pay  for  the  furnishing,  and  still  have  two  or 
three  hundred  in  reserve. 

It  is  early  morning,  not  much  beyond  six,  and  Adam 
Guy  sits  by  the  window  awaiting  his  wife's  return  from 


8  NOTHING    BUT    MONEY. 

Lexington  market.  Lydia's  small  soft  hands  are  to  pre 
pare  his  breakfast,  for  they  have  as  yet  no  domestic. 
As  he  sits  by  the  window,  we  will  take  his  portrait. 
Age  about  twenty-five ;  the  firm  thin  lips,  slightly  fall 
ing  brow,  and  cold  calculating  eyes,  plainly  indicating 
the  lapse  of  some  years  since  his  departure  from  light- 
hearted  youth.  Our  young  husband  is  a  man  in  all 
that  appertains  to  an  earnest  life-purpose.  He  has  al 
ready  measured  himself  with  the  world,  and  girded  up 
his  loins  for  battle. 

We  cannot  say  that  we  like  the  expression  of  his 
face,  as  he  sits  by  the  window  waiting  for  his  young 
wife's  return.  It  is  in  repose,  and  expresses  some  ha 
bitual  state  of  mind,  or  to  speak  more  accurately,  the 
quality  of  some  habitual  state.  His  eyes,  half  closed, 
are  looking  forward  upon  life  —  not  observant  of  any 
thing  external.  There  is  something  hard — we  may 
wrong  him  to  say  cruel  —  in  his  inflexible  mouth. 
If  it  was  even  a  little  sensual  and  voluptuous  we  might 
like  it  better.  How  very  cold  his  face  is  !  Perhaps 
the  dark  complexion  may  have  something  to  do  with 
this  appearance.  We  cannot  say ;  but  it  is  cold  and 
calm.  The  blood  seems  never  to  have  found  its  way 
there,  giving  a  rich  warmth  to  cheek  and  brow.  All 
is  of  the  same  hue,  from  forehead  to  chin.  We  wonder 
if  it  lights  up  when  feeling  is  at  play  ? 

Yes,  for  it  has  lighted  up  suddenly,  and  all  that  looked 
repellant  has  fled.  He  has  started  from  the  window 
and  is  at  the  door,  where  his  young  wife  is  standing. 

"  Are  you  not  late,  dear  ?  " 

He  draws  out  his  watch  and  glances  at  the   time. 


NOTHING    BUT    MONEY.  9 

Ah  !  that  sudden  smile  which  looked  so  sweet  around 
his  mouth  is  fading  quickly. 

"  What  time  is  it?" 

Do  you  see  the  brightness  toneing  down  on  her  face 
as  her  eyes  dwell  on  his  countenance. 

"  Half  past  six  ;  and  you  know  I  must  be  at  business 
by  a  little  after  seven." 

His  eyes  fell  upon  the  geranium. 

"  Isn't  it  sweet  ?  " 

The  young  wife  plucks  a  fragrant  leaf  and  hands  it 
to  her  husband.  He  does  not  smell  of  it,  but  tears  it 
to  pieces  in  an  absent  way. 

"  It  is  half  past  six,  remember,  Lydia.' 

He  could  think  only  of  the  business  that  awaited 
him. 

She  goes  past  him  with  her  face  a  little  paler.  She 
has  felt  more  than  we  have  perceived.  The  coldness 
has  struck  downward  with  a  chill. 

In  fifteen  minutes,  during  which  time  Adam  Guy 
has  walked  the  floor  across  parlor  and  breakfast-room 
with  unceasing  tread,  the  meal  is  served.  It  consists  of 
coffee,  bread  and  butter,  and  boiled  eggs.  The  gerani 
um  is  on  the  work-stand,  and  its  fragrance  filled  the 
room. 

"  Isn't  it  sweet  ?  "  The  wife  has  poured  her  hus 
band  a  cup  of  coffee,  and  he  is  busy  with  his  eggs  and 
bread  and  butter.  "  And  it  cost  only  fifteen  cents. 
The  man  asked  a  quarter." 

The  young  husband  turned  his  eyes  upon  the  flowers. 

"  How  much  for  that  thing,  did  you  say  ?  " 

"  Fifteen  cents." 


10  NOTHING    BUT    MONEY. 

"  Umph  !     What  else  did  you  buy  ?  " 

"  A  steak,  half-a-dozen  eggs,  and  a  bunch  of  aspara 
gus." 

"  What  did  they  cost  ?  " 

"  Let  me  see  —  twenty-five,  seven,  and  ten  —  forty- 
two  cents." 

"  And  the  flower  fifteen  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  So  your  flower  cost  nearly  half  as  much  as  your 
dinner." 

Adam  Guy  shakes  his  head  after  a  very  sober  fashion. 

"  But  that's  the  way  of  the  world,  my  dear,"  he 
adds,  in  a  moralizing  strain,  and  with  more  of  severity 
than  kindness  in  his  tone.  "  Ornament,  beauty,  and 
superfluity  are  permitted  to  consume  half  of  almost 
every  man's  substance.  People  would  get  along  easily 
enough  with  their  necessities.  It  is  the  burden  of  su 
perfluous  things  that  makes  so  many  stooping  shoulders. 
Now,  we  must  be  wiser  than  all  this,  Lydia.  We  must 
not  let  outside  glitter  and  show  bewilder  us.  There's 
no  use  in  that  flower,  which  has  cost  -as  much  as  three 
loaves  of  bread,  or  your  half-dozen  eggs  and  bunch  of 
asparagus." 

Tears  are  in  Lydia's  eyes,  but  her  husband  does  not 
observe  them  ;  her  appetite  is  gone,  but  he  fails  to  no 
tice  the  fact.  His  thought  rests  in  the  importance  of 
making  her  feel  that  only  life's  necessities  are  to  be  re 
garded  —  that  money  is  a  thing  of  too  much  importance 
in  the  world  to  be  wasted  on  trifles. 

"  Money  is  a  great  power,  Lydia,"  he  goes  on.  "  If 
we  have  money  at  command,  and  to  fall  back  upon,  we 


NOTHING    BUT    MONEY.  11 

can  be  independent  of  everything  and  everybody.  But, 
if  we  waste  our  money,  instead  of  keeping  it  for  use 
we  will  be  the  slaves  of  every  changing  circumstance. 
Money  is  a  reality,  and  abides.  If  you  lay  it  up  you 
have  a  well-grounded  assurance  of  finding  it  all  safe  in 
the  time  of  need.  But  your  pretty  flowers  wither  up 
and  die,  or,  living,  are  a  care,  and  useless.  I  have 
made  it  a  rule,  for  years,  not  to  buy  anything  that  I 
did  not  really  need.  Some  men  can't  keep  a  dollar  to 
save  their  lives.  They  not  only  spend  foolishly  all  they 
receive,  but  their  covetous  eyes  lead  them  into  debt  for 
things  that  are  wholly  useless.  Such  men  you  find  always 
in  trouble.  They  complain  about  not  being  able  to 
get  along  in  the  world,  and  never  seem  to  comprehend 
the  fact  that  the  fault  lies  at  their  own  door." 

"  Flowers  are  not  useless  things,  Adam.  God  made 
them." 

There  is  a  pleading  tone  in  the  low,  tender  voice  of 
Lydia  Guy,  as  she  looks  across  the  table  at  her  husband. 

"  And  he  made  the  rivers  also ;  but  that  is  no  reason 
why  we  should  turn  them  from  their  courses,  and  let 
them  sweep  in  destruction  through  our  dwellings,"  is 
triumphantly  answered. 

"  There  is  no  harm  in  flowers.  They  destroy  nothing. 
But,  on  the  contrary,  restore  to  the  mind  much  that  is 
lost  in  our  jarring  life-experiences.  They  are  God's 
messengers  of  love  to  our  hearts." 

"  All  poetry,  Lydia !  All  poetry  !  Your  flower, 
there,  has  destroyed  fifteen  cents  —  a  thing  actually  de 
monstrable.  Three  loaves  of  bread  would  have  given 
us  blood  and  muscle  for  work  in  the  world.  But  that 
poor  trifle  !  Pah!  Its  useless." 


12  NOTHING    BUT    MONEY. 

Lydia  is  neither  strong-willed,  nor  given  to  contention. 
She  does  not,  therefore,  urge  her  view  of  the  case,  but 
sighs,  and  remains  silent.  Adam  Guy  talks  on,  having 
the  argument  all  to  himself,  and  rises,  at  length,  from 
the  breakfast-table  with  the  air  of  a  man  who  has  settled 
a  favorite  point  beyond  all  controversy. 

"  Throw  your  geranium  out  of  the  window,  dear," 
half  laughing,  half  in  earnest,  as  he  kisses  his  wife  at 
parting.  "  It  has  already  brought  you  more  trouble 
than  it  is  worth  five  times  over. 


CHAPTER  II. 

'. 

T  was  beyond  the  reach  of  Adam  Guy's 
imagination  to  picture  his  young  wife  sit 
ting  tearful,  or  in  sad,  half  dreamy  ab 
straction,  for  an  hour  after  he  went  away, 
and  all  for  what  he  had  said  about  a  use 
less  flower.  Would  his  thought  have 
grown  tender  toward  her,  if  he  had 
known  the  truth  ?  Would  he  have  chid- 
ed  himself,  for  letting  so  small  a  matter 
come  in  to  mar  the  happiness  of  a  young  heart,  that  was 
beating  so  true  to  love  and  him  ?  No.  His  thought 
would  have  grown  sterner,  and  he  would  have  approved 
to  himself  all  the  coldly-wise  sentiments  which  had  been 
spoken.  He  would  have  felt  angry  toward  the  flower, 
which  he  had  only  despised  as  worthless. 

Yet,  so  it  was  with  Lydia.  She  had  a  true  woman's 
sensitive  appreciation  of  all  things  beautiful  in  nature. 
From  a  child,  she  had  been  a  lover  of  the  earth's  bright 
and  beautiful  children,  the  flowers.  They  spoke  to  her 
in  a  language  not  understood  by  grosser  natures ;  and, 
in  their  presence,  she  felt  like  one  lifted  into  some  purer 
sphere.  To  hear  the  flowers  contemned  by  lips,  whose 
words  had  come  so  often  in  music  to  her  ears  —  from 
lips  to  which  her  ear  must  bend  and  listen  in  all  her 


14  NOTHING   BUT   MONEY. 

after-life  —  ah,  that  was  no  light  thing  !  We  do  not 
wonder  at  her  tears. 

Then,  there  seemed  to  her  such  a  hard,  cold,  calcu 
lating  vein,  in  what  her  husband  had  said —  a  spirit  not 
seen  before  —  an  intense  worldliness  —  a  bowing  down 
to  the  worship  of  the  lowest  and  most  external  things 
—  and  an  elevation  of  money  as  the  greatest  good. 
Suddenly,  there  had  come  to  her  a  new  revelation  of 
his  character —  not  that  he  had  never  spoken  of  econo 
my  and  prudence  —  of  the  repression  of  vagrant  desires, 
and  the  folly  of  waste.  These  were  his  favorite  themes  ; 
and,  as  he  had  usually  presented  them,  her  thought  ap 
proved.  She  would  have  liked  a  little  more  of  the  or 
namental  in  her  household  —  a  few  things  of  beauty  for 
the  eye  to  dwell  upon.  But,  her  husband  was  poor 
and,  in  conforming  to  his  circumstances,  she  felt  a  sweet 
pleasure. 

Now,  a  veil  had  dropped  from  her  eyes,  and  she  saw 
him  in  a  clearer  light.  She  had  thought  him  earnest  and 
absorbed  in  business  —  ambitious  to  make  his  way  in  the 
world  —  prudent,  calculating,  strong-willed,  and  resolute 
to  do  his  part  in  life  efficiently.  But,  she  had  not  un 
derstood  him  as  he  now  appeared  in  her  eyes  —  a  wor 
shiper  of  mammon,  and  a  despiser  of  even  beauty,  if  it 
could  not  be  an  offering  on  this  shrine. 

When  Lydia  Guy  took  up  the  day's  burden  of  duties 
again,  it  felt  heavier  than  before.  Her  voice  did  not 
break  forth  into  snatches  of  song,  as  her  hands 
busied  themselves  with  household  cares ;  nor  did  her  feet 
bear  her  with  their  usual  springy  tread.  A  shadow  had 
fallen  on  the  distant  landscape :  she  could  not  see  in  it 


NOTHING    BUT    MONEY.  15 

the  beauty  once  so  delightful  to  gaze  upon  ;  its  odors 
did  not  steal  in  waves  of  sweetness  on  her  sense  —  it 
had  caught  a  shade  of  dreariness.  Alas,  for  the  young 
heart,  Avhen  brightness  fades  from  its  sunny  future  !  The 
life  of  Lydia  Guy  was  opening  into  a  new  experience. 

She  had,  after  arousing  herself  from  the  depression 
of  mind  occasioned  by  her  husband's  fuller  revelation 
of  himself,  cleared  off  the  breakfast  table,  and  set  her 
house  in  order.  An  hour  or  two  for  needlework  came 
in  at  this  part  of  the  day,  and  Lydia  was  sitting  by  her 
little  table,  when  a  visitor  made  her  appearance  in  the 
person  of  a  young  married  friend.  Warm  and  tender 
was  the  greeting  that  passed  between  them  ;  for  they 
were  heart-companions. 

The  visitor's  name  was  Lena  Hofland.  Her  husband 
was  a  young  physician,  who  had  just  opened  an  office, 
and  like  the  husband  of  Lydia  had  all  the  world  before 
him,  in  which  to  sow  and  reap.  The  two  young  men 
were  standing  in  life  at  about  equal  advantage,  so  far  as 
worldly  goods  were  concerned.  Less  than  a  thousand 
dollars  covered  tKe  full  amount  of  Guy's  possessions  at 
the  time  of  his  marriage  ;  and  Hofland's  means  exceed 
ed  this  only  by  a  few  hundred  of  dollars.  One  differ 
ence  existed,  which  will  be  regarded  as  in  favor  of  Guy  ; 
he  had  earned  and  saved  his  seven  or  eight  hundred 
dollars,  while  the  twelve  hundred  on  which  doctor  Hof 
land  ventured  out  into  the  world,  was  the  remnant  of  a 
small  legacy  on  which  he  had  depended  while  studying 
his  profession.  Guy's  was  an  accummulating,  Hofland's 
a  diminishing  fund.  And  there  was  still  another  differ 
ence  —  Guy  had  no  taste  to  gratify  ;  no  artificial  wants  ; 


16  NOTHING    BUT   MONEY. 

no  expensive  weaknesses.  A  silver  dollar,  in  his  eye 
was  more  beautiful  than  a  picture,  a  vase,  or  a  jewel,  or 
any  thing  desirable  only  on  the  score  of  ornament.  He 
cared  nothing  for  music,  and  the  beauty  and  sweetness 
of  nature  made  no  strong  appeals  to  his  inner  conscious 
ness.  But  Dr.  Hofland  had  an  acute  perception  of  the 
beautiful,  and  tastes,  that,  if  indulged  to  their  full  ex 
tent,  would  have  drawn  largely  upon  the  amplest  for 
tune.  On  money  he  set  no  value  except  as  a  means  of 
procuring  that  which  mind  and  body  required  in  the 
world.  Applying  the  metaphysician's  distinction  — •  he 
looked  at  gold  subjectively,  rather  than  objectively. 

The  young  men  had  been  acquainted  from  boyhood. 
Their  parents  were  neighbors,  and  they  had  attended 
school  together.  One  from  choice,  entered  a  store,  and 
the  other,  also  from  choice,  became  a  student  of  medi 
cine.  At  this  point  in  their  lives  there  was  a  divergence 
in  feeling  as  well  as  in  pursuits.  Guy  did  not  lack 
mind  ;  he  had  as  clear  and  strong  an  intellect  as  Hof 
land,  and  in  any  profession  would  have  been  his  peer  — 
stood  above  him,  perhaps.  His  choice  of  a  mercantile 
life  came  from  no  peculiar  fondness  or  fitness  for  the  pur 
suit,  but  simply  from  a  money  consideration  of  the  case. 
He  saw  through  trade,  the  surest  road  to  wealth,  and 
took  that  road  in  consequence. 

So  much,  briefly,  of  the  two  men  and  their  antece 
dents.  The  reader  has  already  comprehended  them. 
They  are  types  of  two  great  classes,  to  both  of  which  the 
world  owes  much.  They  do  not  seem  of  much  account 
in  their  day  of  humble  obscurity.  Their  spheres  of  life 
are  narrow,  their  places  in  the  world  unnoted,  their  in- 


NOTHING    BUT    MONEY.  17 

fluence  scarcely  perceived.  Strong  men,  men  of  gold, 
men  of  intellect,  if  from  any  cause  their  eyes  happen  to  fall 
upon  them,  hold  them  in  light  consideration.  They 
see  not  an  oak's  great  promise  in  the  acorn's  tender 
shoot,  nor  dream  of  the  imperial  river  as  they  step, 
without  a  thought  of  its  limpid  waters,  over  the  slender 
rivulet. 

The  wives  of  these  young  men  had  been  early  friends, 
also.  But  their  tastes  were  more  nearly  accordant. 
Yet  Lydia  was  not  so  clear-seeing,  nor  so  strong-willed 
as  Lena  ;  else  she  would  never  have  given  her  hand  to 
Adam  Guy.  Lena  would  have  penetrated  more  deep 
ly  into  his  character;  ^vould  have  comprehended  his 
quality  better  —  and  she  would  have  had  decision 
enough  to  turn  from  him  resolutely,  when  he  approach 
ed  as  a  lover. 

A  flood  of  light  made  radiant  the  face  of  Lydia  Guy 
as  her  young  friend  entered.  Their  lips  met  in  a  heart- 
warm  kiss ;  their  arms  went  fondly  twining  about  neck 
and  waist.  Lena  held  a  small  bunch  of  choice  flowers 
in  her  hand. 

"  They  are  for  you,  dear,"  she  said,  after  the  kisses 
had  been  given,  and  words  of  love  exchanged. 

"  Oh  !  how  sweet !  Thank  you,  Lena  !  "  and  Ly 
dia  received  the  offering,  gazing  on  it  with  eyes  that  felt 
and  drank  in  the  beauty  that  held  them. 

"  The  Doctor  bought  me  a  lovely  bouquet  as  he  pass 
ed  through  the  market  this  morning,  and  I  have  divided 
it  for  my  friend,"  said  Lena. 

"  It  was  so  kind  in  you  !  " 

As  Lydia  said  this,  she  turned  her  face  partly  aside. 


18  NOTHING   BUT    MONEY. 

A  thought  came  in  to  mar  the  pleasure  of  the  moment ; 
to  steal  away  the  fragrance  that  was  breathing  upon 
her  lips.  Almost  involuntarily,  her  eyes  wandered  to 
the  geranium  that  stood,  yet,  upon  her  work-stand. 
Lena's  husband  had  made  her  a  gift  of  flowers ;  but 
Adam  Guy  had  blamed  her  for  buying  a  single  blossom 
ing  plant,  with  which  to  beautify  her  home. 

"  They  are  very  sweet,"  she  added,  as  she  com 
menced  examining  the  flowers  that  made  up  the  cluster 
in  her  hand.  "  How  the  odor  of  this  mignionette  takes 
me  back  along  the  way  of  girlhood ;  and  I  see  the 
woods  and  fields  again,  by  the  magic  of  sweet  briar  and 
myrtle.  What  a  delicate  tint  is  in  this  rose  !  And  this 
bud!  Oh!  is  it  not  exquisite?  White,  crimson,  soft 
fading  pink,  purple,  and  golden.  What  a  power  there 
is  in  beauty,  Lena  !  In  color  and  grace  of  form  united. 
They  speak  to  some  inner  sense,  and  that  sense  responds 
in  thrills  of  pleasure." 

As  she  ceased,  a  faint  sigh  came  fluttering  through 
her  lips. 

"  Ah,"  she  continued,  "  if  the  useful  and  the  beauti 
ful  in  life  were  more  closely  united.  But  the  hard, 
stern,  plodding  useful,  persistently  separates  itself  from 
the  beautiful,  or  spurns  and  tramples  it  under  foot." 

"  It  is /or  us  to  unite  them,"  said  Lena.  "  The  doc 
tor  and  I  were  talking  of  that  very  thing  this  morning." 

"  Beauty  is  costly,"  remarked  Lydia,  «  and  we  are 
poor." 

There  was  a  shade  of  depression  in  her  voice. 
"  And  cheap,  also,"  answered  Lena.     «  A  flower  is 
not  costly,  and  yet,  in  nature,  there  is  no  other  form  of 


NOTHING    BUT    MONEY.  19 

such  exquisite  grace  and  delicate  proportion  ;  and  all 
the  riches  of  color  are  added  ;  and  all  the  sweetness  of 
perfume.  If  taste  is  genuine  —  if  our  love  of  beauty 
is,  indeed,  a  pasvsion  of  the  soul  —  then  may  we  find 
perpetual  enjoyments,  even  though  our  lot  in  life 
be  poor  and  humble.  A  true  lover  of  art  may  en 
joy  a  statue  or  a  picture  far  more  than  the  own 
er.  Speaking  on  this  very  subject,  the  doctor  remarked 
a  day  or  two  ago,  that  the  love  of  possessing  works  of 
art,  was  inferior  to  the  love  of  art,  and  that  therefore, 
the  man  of  true  taste,  though  unblessed  by  fortune, 
might  enter  into  higher  pleasures  than  those  to  whom 
wealth  brought  every  desire  of  the  eye.  If  I  look  at 
the  picture  in  a  rich  man's  gallery,  and  carry  it  away 
in  my  thought,  am  I  not  its  owner  in  the  highest  sense  ? 
Fire  cannot  destroy  it ;  misfortune  cannot  bear  it  away  ; 
no  accident  can  mar  its  fair  proportions.  It  hangs  in 
the  gallery  of  my  soul,  among  other  precious  things, 
and  the  outside  world  has  no  power  over  it.  It  is  mine, 
though  his  ownership  cease ;  mine,  though  the  paint 
and  canvas  are  borne  away  to  the  antipodes." 

"  You  are  growing  into  a  philosopher,"  said  Lydia, 
smiling. 

"  Yes,  thanks  to  my  good  husband.  He  is  helping 
me  to  get  up  higher,  so  to  speak  ;  to  breathe  in  a  purer 
mental  region  ;  to  see  things  in  their  best  relations. 
We  are  poor,  you  know,  but  the  doctor  says,  that  we 
may  be  as  happy  in  our  poverty,  as  the  rich  in  their 
riches  ;  nay  happier,  for  we  are  free  from  the  tempta 
tions  of  the  rich.  The  lesson  we  have  to  learn,  is  that 
which  teaches  a  moderation  of  desire.  Wants  must  be 


20  NOTHING    BUT   MONEY. 

few,  and  not  too  often  told.  We  must  cultivate  a  love 
for  the  beautiful,  rather  than  a  love  of  possession  ;  and 
learn  to  see  beauty  with  an  interior  vision." 

Ah,  how  different  all  this  from  the  uttered  sentiment  of 
Lydia's  husband  !  He  looked  only  to  possession  —  to 
wealth  as  the  best  gift  the  world  had  to  bestow.  Beau 
ty,  in  comparison  to  gold,  was  nothing.  He  spurned 
it  as  unlovely !  The  contrast,  now  so  strongly  pre 
sented,  almost  saddened  the  heart  of  Lydia. 

"  You  are  not  so  bright  as  usual,"  said  her  friend. 

Lydia  smiled,  and  tried  to  look  happy.  But  the  light 
did  not  linger  sweetly  radiant  in  her  countenance.  It 
faded  out  slowly. 

"  How  is  the  doctor  succeeding  ? "  asked  Lydia, 
changing  the  subject. 

"  As  well  as  might  be  expected,"  was  the  reply. 
"  He  has  been  called  to  one  or  two  good  families,  and 
if  he  should  be  liked,  their  influence  will  be  of  great 
use  to  him." 

"  Will  his  income  be  sufficient  for  your  expenses  ?  " 
inquired  Lydia. 

"  O  dear,  no !  So  far,  his  paying  practice  has  not 
been  at  the  rate  of  three  hundred  dollars  a  year." 

"  You  say  '  paying  practice  ;  '  has  he  any  other  ?  " 

"  Yes,  and  a  full  share  of  it  among  the  poor." 

"  Ah !  Is  that  so  ?  Does  he  attend  the  poor  for 
nothing  ?  " 

"  There  is  sickness  among  the  extremely  poor,  as  well 
as  among  others  ;  and  the  physician  cannot  refuse  to 
visit  and  help  the  sick  because  they  have  no  money  to 
recompense  his  services.  We  happen  to  have  many 


NOTHING    BUT    MONEY.  21 

very  poor  people  in  our  neighborhood,  and  the  doctor  is 
called  in  frequently.  It  is  a  Christian  duty  to  attend 
them,  and  one  from  which  he  cannot  hold  back.  They 
are  God's  patients,  he  says,  and  he  is  so  largely  a  debt 
or  to  God  that  he  must  take  all  opportunities  for  pay 
ment." 

"  They  ought  to  recompense  him  in  something,  if  it 
were  ever  so  small,"  said  Lydia. 

"  How  are  you  to  live  ?  The  laborer  is  always  worthy 
of  his  hire." 

"  The  Doctor  has  still  five  hundred  dollars  on  which 
to  draw.  This  will  carry  us  through  a  year  ;  beyond 
that  we  trust  in  a  good  Providence." 

"  Not  a  very  encouraging  prospect." 

"  We  push  aside  discouraging  thoughts,"  was  replied. 
"  To-day  is  ours,  and  we  try  to  get  all  the  happiness 
from  to-day  that  it  has  in  store.  This  the  Doctor  calls 
life's  true  philosophy.  I  get  a  little  nervous,  sometimes  ; 
and  look  into  the  future  in  a  spirit  of  doubt.  What  is 
the  result  ?  Doubt  peoples  the  future  with  forms  of  evil, 
and  my  heart  grows  faint  as  I  look  at  them.  But,  when 
I  turn  back  to  the  present,  I  find  myself  surrounded  with 
blessings  ;  and  I  lift  my  heart  in  thankfulness.  '  Only 
to-day  is  ours,  Lena,'  my  husband  will  say,  when  I 
question  about  the  time  to  come, '  only  to-day  is  ours,  to 
work  in  and  enjoy.  Let  us  do  our  work  faithfully,  and 
take  the  enjoyments,  and  God  will  see  that  our  to-morrows 
are  all  right.'  It  does  me  good  to  hear  him  say  this. 
He  is  such  a  consistent,  right-hearted  man,  Lydia  !  His 
thought  is  so  clear,  that  I  see  it  always,  when  expressed, 
as  the  utterance  of  truth.  It  does  not  come  into  my 


22  NOTHING    BUT   MONEY. 

heart  to  question  what  he  says.  But  I  am  only  talking 
of  what  interests  me.  How  is  Mr:  Guy  —  and  what 
are  your  prospects  in  the  world  ?  How  is  life  looking 
in  the  far  away  future,  to  which  the  eyes  will  turn  with 
asking  glances  ?  " 

"  My  husband  is  not  so  easy  in  mind  as  yours,"  replied 
Lydia,  "  Though  his  present  condition  and  future  pros 
pects  look  more  promising.  His  salary  has  been  raised 
to  twelve  hundred  dollars,  and  it  will  not  cost  us  over 
six  or  seven  hundred  to  live  at  the  outside.  Then  he 
confidently  expects  to  receive  an  interest  in  the  business 
of  the  firm  where  he  is  employed.  Give  him  that  posi 
tion,  he  says,  and  he  will  consider  his  fortune  made 
—  will,  to  use  his  favorite  expression,  '  snap  his  fingers 
in  the  world's  face.' ' 

"  I  am  glad  to  know  that  everything  has  such  an 
encouraging  aspect,"  answered  Lena,  with  genuine 
pleasure.  '.'  You  ought  to  be  very  happy." 

Lydia  sighed  faintly,  as  her  eyes  dropped  to  the  ground. 
That  fair  promise  -in  the  future,  did  not  fill  her  desires. 
There  were  intuitions  in  her  soul,  that  pictured  some 
thing  more,  yet  left  a  trembling  fear  of  disappointment. 
This  day  was  to  be  memorable  in  the  history  of  her 
inner  life,  as  one  on  which  her  mind  had  awakened  to  a 
new  consciousness  touching  her  husband's  character,  and 
its  want  of  harmony  with  her  own.  What  Lena  had 
just  said  of  her  husband,  was  as  a  foil  bringing  out  to 
clearer  perception  the  opposite  characteristics  of  Adam 
Guy  —  and  they  were  unlovely  in  her  eyes.  Not  that 
he  had  all  at  once  revealed  himself  in  his  true  aspect.  Ly 
dia  had  failed  to  read  the  signs  aright.  They  puzzled  her 


NOTHING    BUT   MONEY.  23 

at  times ;  and  she  often  questioned  as  to  a  meaning  be 
yond  anything  dreamed  of  in  her  estimate  of  the  man 
to  whom  she  had  committed  all  things  that  were  holiest 
and  most  sacred.  But  to-day  the  veil  dropped  from  her 
eyes.  That  brief  scene  with  the  flowers  was  a  revela 
tion  ;  and  she  stood  no  longer  a  questioner,  or  in  doubt. 


CHAPTER  III. 


YDIA  did  not  feel  more  peaceful  for 
this    morning   visit  from    her   friend. 
Some  things  that  Lena  said,  particular 
ly  about  her  husband,  remained  distinct 
ly  in  her  thoughts.     The  promise  of  this 
world  was  fairer  for  Adam  and  herself, 
than  it  was  for  Doctor  Hofland  and  his 
wife ;  but  the    promise    for  happiness 
was  on  the  other  side. 
At  dinner  time,  as   Adam  Guy  and  his   wife  sat  at 
the  table,  on  which  their  meal  was  laid,  Lydia  referred 
to  the  call  she  had  received  from  her  friend  Lena. 
"  Playing  the  lady,"  said  Adam,  sententiously. 
"  How  ?     What  do  you  mean  ?  "  Lydia  did  not  clear 
ly  understand  her  husband. 

"  Aping  rich  and  fashionable  people,"  replied  Adam, 
"  in  morning  calls,  when  she  ought  to  be  at  home  attend 
ing  to  her  house,  and  aiding  her  husband.  She  keeps  a 
servant,  which  will  cost  for  hire,  board  and  waste,  not 
less  than  two  hundred  dollars  in  the  year  —  more,  I'll 
warrant  you,  than  the  Doctor's  practice  will  yield  him 
in  that  time.  Now,  I  don't  call  any  woman,  who  is  so 
idle  and  extravagant,  a  good  wife.  Instead  of  helping 


NOTHING    BUT    MONEY.  25 

her  husband  to  succeed,  she  will  help-  to  keep  his  nose 
always  on  the  grindstone.  That  is  not  like  you,  dear." 

This  last  approving  sentence,  spoken  in  a  gentler  tone 
than  he  had  used  in  condemning  Lena,  softened  the 
shock  of  language  that  was  felt  as  a  harsh  and  unjust 
judgment. 

"  It  is  not  as  I  am  doing,  Adam,"  she  returned, 
"  But,  all  are  not  alike  in  this  world,  you  know." 

"  And  all  do  not  come  out  alike.  As  we  sow  in 
this  world  so  will  we  reap,  Lydia.  Can  thrift  come 
of  idleness,  waste,  and  extravagance  ?  Never  !  The 
Doctor  and  his  wife  are  beginning  wrong,  and  they 
will  come  out  wrong —  mark  my  word  for  it !  Lena  is 
just  as  able  to  do  the  light  work  of  their  household,  as 
he  is  to  meet  the  demands  of  his  profession.  Does  he 
hire  a  man  to  make  his  pills  and  spread  his  plasters  ? 
I  have  no  patience  with  women  who  commit  such  folly  ! 
Gadding  about  the  street,  and  making  morning  calls  ! 
Pah !  It  nauseates  me,  this  pretence  of  gentility. 
I  thought  better  of  Lena.  Why,  if  you  were  to  set 
up  to  play  the  lady  after  this  fashion,  Lydia,  the  house 
would  soon  be  too  hot  to  hold  us.  I  wonder  at  the 
Doctor  for  submitting  to  such  a  state^of  things." 

"  It  is  all  right  in  his  eyes,  I  presume,"  said  Lydia. 

"  Then  they're  a  couple  of  blind  fools.  That's  the 
best  I  can  say  for  them." 

As  the  young  man  remarked  this,  his  eyes  lighted 
on  the  bouquet  of  flowers  which  Lena  had  brought  for 
her  friend,  and  which  had  been  placed  in  a  glass  of  water 
on  the  mantelpiece. 

"  Ha  !  More  flowers !  Where  did  they  come 
from  ?  "  2 


26  NOTHING    BUT    MONEY. 

"  Lena  gave  them  to  me."  The  blood  crimsoned 
over  Lydia's  face. 

"  Umph  !     Bought  'em,  no  doubt." 

"  The  Doctor  bought  them  for  her,  as  he  went 
through  the  market  this  morning." 

"  And  she  gave  them  away.  Upon  my  word  !  she 
valued  her  husband's  gift." 

"  She  only  divided  it  with  me,"  replied  Lydia.  "  I 
love  flowers,  and  she  wished  to  give  me  pleasure.  It 
was  kind  and  thoughtful  in  her." 

Adam  Guy  shook  his  head,  in  marked  disapproval. 

"  And  so  it  was  the  Doctor  who  threw  his  money 
away  ?  Well,  they  are  a  precious  pair  !  I  wonder 
where  they  expect  to  come  out  ?  " 

"  Right  in  the  end,"  said  Lydia. 

"  They  will,  when  arithmetical  laws  change,  and 
subtraction  gives  the  result  of  addition  —  not  before. 
But,  the  world  is  full  of  such  people.  Just  look  at  it, 
for  a  moment.  The  Doctor  has  only  three  or  four 
hundred  dollars  to  come  and  go  upon,  outside  of  the 
returns  from  his  practice.  At  the  best,  his  practice 
will  not  give  him  over  five  hundred  a  year,  on  an 
average,  for  the  next  three  years.  Very  well ;  look 
at  it,  as  I  say.  Look  at  it.  House  rent,  two  hundred  ; 
cost  of  a  servant,  two  hundred  more  ;  table  expenses, 
three  hundred,  at  the  lowest  figure  ;  clothing  and  out 
side  expenses,  two  hundred  and  fifty  ;  flowers,  jewelry, 
pictures,  gewgaws  and  other  nonsense,  two  hundred 
more  ;  in  all,  eleven  hundred  and  fifty  dollars !  Run 
this  through  three  years,  and  you  have  three  thousand 
four  hundred  and  fifty  dollars.  Now,  let  us  see  what 


NOTHING    BUT    MONEY.  27 

the  prospect  is  for  meeting  so  large  a  sum.  There  is, 
we  will  say,  four  hundred  to  start  with ;  and  we  will 
give  six  hundred  a  year  for  the  Doctor's  average  income 
during  the  next  three  years,  and  that  is  a  liberal  esti 
mate.  Three  times  six  hundred  make  eighteen  hun 
dred  —  add  four  hundred,  and  we  have  two  thousand 
two  hundred  dollars  of  means*  against  an  expenditure 
of  three  thousand  four  hundred  and  fifty !  Figures 
don't  lie,  my  dear.  At  the  end  of  three  years  the 
Doctor  will  be  twelve  hundred  and  fifty  dollars  in  debt ! 
Think  of  that!" 

A  troubled  expression  came  into  the  fair  young  face 
of  Lydia  Guy,  as  she  sat  looking  at  her  husband.  She 
understood  him  perfectly,  and  saw,  for  the  time,  clear 
ly  with  his  arithmetical  eyes.  The  promise  was  not  a 
good  one  for  her  young  friend.  There  was  misfor 
tune  in  the  world  for  Lena,  and  the  heart  of  Lydia  was 
touched  by  it,  in  saddening  anticipation. 

"  Debt !  —  yes  debt,  that  curse  of  a  man's  life  !  "  re 
sumed  Guy,  almost  bitterly,  as  if  he  felt  the  fiend's 
grip  on  his  arm.  "  They  will  be  overridden  by  debt, 
as  surely  as  the  breath  is  in  them  !  Somebody's  mon 
ey  besides  their  own  will  have  to  go  for  their  waste  and 
extravagance.  Whose  shall  it  be  ?  Not  mine,  I  can 
tell  them.  No,  not  a  dollar  of  mine  !  Adam  Guy's 
hard  earnings  and  careful  savings  shall  never  go  to 
sustain  the  pride,  self-indulgence,  and  wasteful  extrava 
gance  of  such  people.  I'll  burden  nobody,  and  nobody 
shall  burden  me.  I  have  the  industry,  patience,  self- 
denial,  and  persistence  needed  for  accumulation,  and 
with  it  the  nerve  to  keep  what  I  gain.  No  man  shall 


28  NOTHING    BUT   MONEY. 

find  in  me   a  weak   spirit  of  yielding.     I  can  be  iron 
and  brass  to  importunity  ;  —  and  I  will." 

There  was  a  tone  in  her  husband's  voice,  and  an  ex 
pression  on  his  face,  that  made  the  blood  flow  back  in  a 
chill  from  Lydia's  heart.  She  had  never  seen  him  in 
just  the  light  he  now  presented  himself. 

"  You  haven't  thrown  that  flower  out  of  the  win 
dow,"  he  said,  with  more  than  half  seriousness,  a  little 
while  afterward,  as  they  arose  from  the  table,  and  his 
eyes  glanced  toward  the  geranium  which  his  wife  had 
bought  in  the  morning. 

"  No,  nor  have  I  any  intention  of  doing  so,"  replied 
Lydia.  "  That  would  be  wantonly  to  destroy  a  thing 
of  beauty." 

"  There's  no  use  in  it,"  said  Guy. 

"  I'm  not  so  sure  of  that.  The  sight  of  a  flower  re 
freshes  my  mind.  If  I  am  dull,  a  new  life  flows  through 
my  veins  ;  if  I  am  sad,  a  cheerful  spirit  awakes.  Don't 
condemn  the  flowers,  Adam  ;  they  have  a  mission  for 
our  hearts." 

"  And  that  mission  is,  to  teacli  us  how  frail  and  per 
ishing  is  all  ornament  —  how  valueless  are  flaunting 
color  and  mere  exterior  grace  !  We  spend  our  sub 
stance  for  naught,  when  we  spend  it  for  these.  That  is 
the  lesson  the  flowers  teach  us,  Lydia,  if  they  teacli  us 
anything." 

He  took  up  the  flower-pot,  as  he  closed  the  last  sen 
tence,  and  poising  it  in  his  hand  said  : 

"  Let  me  throw  it  from  the  window." 

But  Lydia  sprung  to  his  side,  and  catching  his  arm, 
cried  — 


NOTHING    BUT    MONEY.  29 

"  No  !  —  no  !  —  Don't  do  that !  "  in  such  earnest  re 
monstrance,  that  he  desisted  from  his  purpose.  She 
felt  that  her  husband  was  going  too  far,  and  anger 
blended  with  the  feelings  that  made  her  heart  beat  more 
violently,  and  sent  the  hot  blood  to  her  face.  Ere  the 
flush  of  anger  died,  she  said,  with  a  sharpness  that 
stung  him  : 

"  Adam  !  You  are  stepping  a  little  beyond  your  pre 
rogative.  If  I  care  to  have  a  flower,  it  is  not  for  you 
to  object." 

"  It  is  for  me  to  object  to  a  foolish  waste  of  money," 
he  answered  in  a  cold,  firm  voice  ;  "  and  I  advertise 
you  here,  that  I  shall  always  do  so." 

And  saying  this,  Adam  Guy  took  up  his  hat,  and 
left  the  house. 

The  day  which  had  opened  so  unfavorably  for  their 
peace,  gathered  blackness  as  it  advanced.  Here  was 
the  first  storm  that  had  troubled  their  serene  sky. 
Lydia  stood,  for  some  minutes,  like  one  who  had  been 
stunned  by  a  blow.  Then  she  sat  down  —  not  in  tears, 
but  with  a  pale,  abstracted  face,  and  brows  knit  gloom 
ily.  Painfully  the  conviction  forced  itself  upon  her 
mind,  that  there  had  been  a  great  error  in  her  girlish 
estimate  of  Adam  Guy's  character ;  that  she  had  com 
prehended  him  only  in  part.  The  morning's  troubled 
questionings  were  taking  the  shape  of  distinct  percep 
tions.  She  saw  him  as  she  never  had  seen  him  before, 
and  felt  herself  removed,  as  it  were,  to  a  distance  from 
him.  A  sense  of  repulsion  arose  in  her  heart.  The 
moral  beauty,  which  had  appeared  as  a  fair  garment 
clothing  his  spirit,  seemed  to  fade  and  change  to  an 


30  NOTHING    BUT    MONEY. 

unlovely  vesture.  If  it  was  with  him,  as  from  this 
new  revelation  of  himself,  it  appeared  to  be,  the  sweet 
idea  she  had  formed  of  a  marriage  union,  would  prove 
to  her  like  the  airy  fabric  of  a  vision.  Their  minds 
could  never  grow  into  each  other,  by  the  attraction  of 
similar  tastes,  feelings,  affections  and  principles  —  could 
never  blend  into  harmonious  oneness.  All  this  and 
more,  was  seen  and  felt  by  Lydia,  as  she  sat  lost  to  ex 
ternal  things  for  a  long,  long  time,  after  the  departure 
of  her  husband. 

Lydia  Guy  \vas  alone  in  the  world,  so  far  as  near  rel 
atives  were  considered.  Two  years  before  her  marriage, 
the  death  of  her  mother  had  left  her  without  a  home, 
or  any  means  of  support  beyond  the  product  of  her  own 
hands.  From  school,  she  passed  to  the  work-room  of 
a  dress-maker,  and  in  six  months  learned  the  art  of  con 
structing  garments  so  skillfully,  that  she  was  able  to 
support  herself  in  independence.  Not  alone  did  her 
fair  countenance,  grace  of  form,  sweetness  of  manner, 
and  more  than  ordinary  intelligence,  attract  the  eyes 
and  win  the  heart  of  Adam  Guy.  These  would  have 
allured  him  in  vain,  had  there  not  appeared  the  more 
solid  basis  of  thrift  and  industry.  He  saw  that  she 
would  make  a  good  wife,  in  another  sense  than  is 
always  considered ;  that  she  would  work  and  save,  and 
help  him  to  grow  rich.  He  did  not  find  in  her  the  non 
sense,  frivolity  and  want  of  thought  that  displayed  itself 
in  so  many  of  the  young  ladies  who  came  under  his  ob 
servation ;  and  he  was  especially  pleased  to  note  the 
fact  that  she  had  acquired  a  better  estimate  of  money 
than  is  ordinarily  held  by  her  sex.  The  necessity  of 
earning  before  spending,  had  produced  this  result. 


NOTHING    BUT    MONEY.  31 

Before  marriage,  they  had  talked  freely  about  their 
housekeeping  arrangements.  Lydia  noted,  that  in  his 
calculation  of  expenses,  nothing  was  said  about  the 
hire,  or  cost  of  keeping  a  servant  in  the  beginning. 
As  she  felt  well  and  strong,  and  really  desired  to  join 
hands  with  her  future  husband,  as  a  "  helpmeet  for 
him,"  she  saw  no  objection  to  this  ;  she  was  willing,  in 
the  outset,  to  perform  all  the  work  of  their  little  house 
hold.  It  could  be  a  labor  of  love,  and  nothing  else. 
She  was  used  to  being  busy  over  some  kind  of  work  all 
the  day  long ;  and  the  thought  of  having  a  home  of 
her  own  to  work  in,  and  one  loved  above  all  others, 
to  work  for  and  make  happy,  was  imagining  to  herself 
a  paradise. 

And  so  they  had  begun  their  housekeeping,  as  we  have 
seen,  Lydia  doing  all  her  own  work;  and,  up  to  the  day 
on  which  she  is  introduced  to  the  reader,  doing  it  cheer 
fully.  But,  from  that  day,  "  a  change  came  o'er  the 
spirit  of  her  dreams." 


CHAPTER  IV. 


EARLY  all  the  afternoon,  on  that  first 
day  of  Lydia  Guy's  introduction  to  the 
reader,  did  she  sit  with  idle  hands, 
dreamy  eyes,  and  lips  just  touched  with 
a  shade  of  sadness.  The  stream  of  her 
life,  which  had,  since  her  marriage,  been 
dancing  along  musically  in  the  sunshine, 
all  at  once  left  the  open  fields  and  gentle 
declivities,  losing  itself  in  sluggish  pools 
that  widened  and  diverged,  and  hid  their  dark  depths 
under  thick,  shadowing  trees,  and  tangled  brake.  She 
could  look  forward  in  sweet  hope  no  longer.  There  was 
cloud,  and  obscuring  night,  on  all  the  future,  that  a  little 
while  ago  had  been  so  full  of  promise.  The  life,  Jnto 
which  her  consciousness  was  opening,  had  a  strange,  re- 
pellant  aspect;  and  a  shudder  crept  into  her  heart  as 
she  tried  to  see  light  and  beauty  ahead,  but  could  make 
out  nothing,  distinctly,  among  the  gloomy  shadows  that 
obstructed  her  vision. 

Must  all  beauty,  all  gentle  charity,  all  the  soul's 
loving  worship  of  things  that  dwell  in  regions  above 
mere  sordidness,  or  hard,  accumulative  actuality,  be 
crushed  out  ?  No  wonder  that  a  shudder  crept  through 
her  heart !  No  wonder  she  sat  with  idle  hands  through 


NOTHING    BUT    MONEY.  33 

that  afternoon,  trying  to  comprehend  all  that  was  meant 
by  this  new  relation  in  which  she  found  herself  standing 
to  life.  Was  money  —  property  —  material  wealth  — 
the  greatest  good  ?  Did  it  comprehend  all  worth  living 
for?  Must  everything  else  be  cast  down  for  its  enthrone 
ment  —  beauty  —  friendship  —  charity  —  love  —  all  the 
heart's  riches  ?  Was  she  not  to  have  a  flower,  even, 
because  it  was  no  money- producing,  or  money- saving 
instrument  ?  or  because  it  absorbed  a  few  pennies  or 
dimes?  or,  worse  still,  in  the  eyes  of  her  husband,  fos 
tered  taste,  and  a  love  of  the  mere  beautiful,  which  were 
expensive  attributes. 

The  heart  of  Lydia  Guy  rebelled  against  all  this.  If 
such  were  her  husband's  requirements,  she  did  not  see 
how  it  was  possible  for  them  to  draw  any  nearer  in  spirit 
—  to  crow  into  that  sweet  oneness  of  life  which  her 

C 

maiden  fancies  had  loved  to  dwell  upon  as  including  the 
highest  of  human  felicities.  Her  talk  with  Lena  in  the 

O 

morning  in  no  way  tended  to  reconcile  her  to  this  change 

o  •/  o 

in  the  programme  of  life.  How  sharply  in  contrast  stood 
the  character  of  her  husband  with  that  of  Doctor  Hof- 
land  ?  What  a  light  seemed  to  hover  over  the  home  of 
her  friend,  while  clouds  were  gathering  in  the  sky  that 
arched  above  her. 

A  few  warm  words  had  passed  between  Lydia  and  her 
husband  at  dinner-time,  and  he  had  gone  away  with  a 
stern,  admonitory  sentence  on  his  lips.  He  had  spoken 
with  authority,  and  left  a  spirit  of  rebellion  in  the  heart 
of  his  wife.  The  law  of  force  had  come  in,  setting 
aside  the  law  of  love  and  sweet  compliance  was  at  an 
2* 


34  NOTHING    BUT    MONEY. 

end.     Foolish  man  !     Blind,  weak,  besotted  man  !     For 
what  dross  was  he  bartering  the  rich  red  gold  of  life  ! 

Not  with  that  light  step,  which  gave  to  every  motion 
a  grace,  as  on  the  afternoon  of  the  day  before,  when 
Lydia  made  preparation  for  her  husband's  coming  at 
twilight,  did  she  move,  now,  as  the  shadows  began  to 
lengthen,  in  the  work  of  providing  their  evening  repast. 
A  heavy  heart  makes  the  feet  heavy. 

Adam  Guy  was  not  a  man  from  whose  feelings  any 
ripple  passes  quickly.  All  disturbances  went  down 
deeply,  and  surged  to  and  fro  for  a  long  time  after  the 
cause  had  ceased.  It  must  be  remarked,  however,  that  he 
was  susceptible  of -disturbance  only  in  the  direction  of  his 
avaricious  cupidities.  Lay  your  hand  on  these,  and  he 
felt  the  jar  long  and  profoundly.  Assault  these  in 
never  so  small  a  degree,  and  sympathy,  pity,  tenderness 
toward  the  assailant,  even  humanity,  died  out  instantly. 
He  was  armed  and  guarded  at  every  point. 

And  so,  Adam  Guy's  feelings  did  not  soften  toward 
his  young  wife  during  the  few  hours  that  elapsed  from 
the  time  of  his  parting  with  her  at  mid-day,  until  he  met 
her  again  in  the  first  fall  of  twilight  shadows.  He  saw 

c?  O 

in  her  a  weakness  that  must  be  crushed  out.  His  hand 
was  upon  it,  and  come  what  would,  he  meant  to  extin 
guish  its  life.  Germs  of  extravagance  were  beginning 
to  show  themselves,  which  must  be  robbed  of  vitality. 
Not  a  single  word  of  the  sentence  —  "  Adam,  you  are 
stepping  a  little  beyond  your  prerogative  !  If  I  care  to 
have  a  flower,  it  is  not  for  you  to  object !  "  —  failed  from 
his  memory.  He  conned  them  over  and  over,  and  over 
again,  each  time  rejecting  them  with  a  stern  purpose. 


NOTHING    BUT    MONEY.  35 

"  Stepping  beyond  my  prerogative  ! ''  —  so  he  talked 
with  himself,  ever  and  anon  —  "  We  shall  see  !  That 
was  unwisely  said,  Lydia.  Not  for  me  to  object  to 
waste  and  extravagance  !  Indeed  !  I  wonder  who  is 
to  object,  if  not  I  ?  Please  heaven,  I  will  object  to  the 
last ;  and  not  only  object,  but  extinguish  waste  and  ex 
travagance.  If  this  comes  from  the  introduction  of  a 
single  worthless  flower,  I  shall  take  good  care  that  my 
house  is  not  transformed  into  a  conservatory.  Fore 
warned  —  fore-armed." 

Weaned  with  beating  about  in  a  vague  uncertainty  ; 
weak  and  bewildered  ;  the  heart  of  Lydia  began  to  lift 
itself  toward  her  husband,  as  the  day  declined,  with  a 
yearning  for  the  sunshine  of  love  which  clouds  had  hid 
den.  She  repented  of  her  hastily  spoken  words,  and 
even  went  so  far  as  to  remove  the  geranium,  which  had 
been  the  exciting  cause  of  this  trouble,  from  theii 
sitting-room.  In  what  spirit  would  he  come  home  ? 
That  was  the  question  of  greatest  concern  now.  Would 
he  bring  the  hard,  threatening,  almost  angry  face  that 
frowned  upon  her  in  parting  ;  or  the  old,  pleasant  face, 
in  which  she  read  so  many  tender  meanings  ?  Oh,  she 
could  not  live  without  love  !  could  not  go  on  through 
life  in  a  spirit  of  antagonism.  No  !  —  no  !  She  was 
not  strong  enough  for  this.  Death  were  to  be  prefer 
red. 

And  so,  looking  away  from  the  causes  which  had 
wrought  this  unhappy  alienation,  she  tried  to  let  re 
awakening  love  for  her  husband  cover  the  hard,  bare, 
unsightly  aspects  of  character  which  had  suddenly  re 
vealed  themselves ;  and  in  this  spirit  she  was  awaiting 


36  NOTHING    BUT    MONEY. 

his  return,  when  she  heard  his  well-known  footsteps 
crossing  their  little  parlor  floor.  She  was  in  the  kitch 
en,  busied  with  preparations  for  supper,  but  came  forth 
quickly,  meeting  him  as  he  entered  the  sitting-room, 
where  the  table  was  spread.  The  light  in  her  eyes,  and 
the  smile  on  her  lips,  died  instantly ;  for  the  face  of  her 
husband  was  cold  as  a  sea  of  ice.  The  usual  kiss  was 
intermitted.  Adam  did  not  offer  it,  and  the  heart  of 
Lydia  rebelled  against  solicitation.  A  few  distant  words 
were  exchanged,  and  then  Lydia  went  back  to  the  kitch 
en,  Avith  a  heart  of  lead  in  her  bosom. 

Almost  silently  passed  the  evening  meal.  Adam  sat 
through  it  with  a  cold,  implacable  face  —  Lydia  with  a 
heart  ready,  at  each  moment,  to  gush  through  her 
eyes. 

After  the  meal  was  finished  Adam  took  a  newspaper 
from  his  pocket  and  commenced  reading,  wrhile  his  wife 
removed  the  tea  things.  As  she  went  and  came,  passing 
from  their  sitting  room  to  the  kitchen,  he  glanced,  fur 
tively,  over  the  edge  of  his  newspaper-  at  her  face,  and 
was  a  little  surprised  as  well  as  annoyed,  at  seeing  tears 
falling  silently  down  her  cheeks.  It  was  the  first  time 
Adam  had  seen  his  wife  in  tears,  and  it  made  him  feel 
rather  strangely.  This  was  something  not  taken  into 
the  account  in  marriage.  He  had  bargained  for  smiles, 
not  tears  ;  for  a  mind  that  should  be  in  complete  har 
mony  with  his  own  —  never  in  opposition  ;  for  a  sec 
ond  self.  What  was  the  cause-  of  these  tears  ?  That 
question  came  naturally,  and  Adam  Guy  answered  it 
from  his  own  stand-point,  and  selfish  perceptions. 

"  And  so  it  has  come  to  this !  "  he  said,  speaking  to 


NOTHING    BUT    MONEY.  37 

himself.  "  Because  I  will  not  consent  to  waste  and  ex 
travagance  I  must  be  punished  with  tears.  But  it  wont 
do.  Adam  Guy  isn't  the  man  to  be  turned  aside  from, 
what  is  right  by  a  woman's  tears.  If  Lydia  wont  hear 
to  reason  —  wont  act  like  a  prudent,  sensible  wife  —  the 
trouble  be  on  her  own  head.  As  to  wasting  my  hard 
earned  money  on  such  nonsense  as  flowers,  it  never  shall 
be  ;  and  the  matter  may  as  well  be  settled  first  as  last. 
As  for  Dr.  Hofland's  wife,  I  don't  think  her  the  right 
stamp  of  a  woman  for  Lydia,  and  I'll  break  off  the  in 
timacy,  if  possible.  Hofland  is  an  extravagant,  thrift 
less  fellow,  and  his  wife  is  just  like  him.  He  is  out  of 
my  books,  anyhow.  I  don't  like  the  way  in  which  he 
is  beginning  life  —  living  beyond  his  means,  and  making 
debt  certain.  In  less  than  a  year  he'll  be  on  the  bor 
rowing  line.  There'll  be  a  break  between  us  then,  just 
as  surely  as  the  sun  shines,  should  terms  of  intimacy 
exist.  The  prudent  man  forseeth  evil,  and  lam  a  pru 
dent  man.  He  is  going  his  way  and  I  am  going  mine, 
and  the  roads  have  a  wide  divergence." 

Thus  he  talked  with  himself,  fortifying  his  mind 
against  his  wife  and  strengthening  his  purpose  to  have 
his  own  will  in  all  that  concerned  them. 

"What's  the  matter?  "  he  asked,  in  an  abrupt,  half 
imperative,  half  surprised  tone,  as  Lydia  came  in  from 
the  kitchen,  after  having  completed  her  duties  there,  af 
fecting  just  to  have  made  the  discovery  that  she  had 
been  weeping. 

The  heart  of  Lydia  was  too  full ;  she  could  not  an 
swer  either  calmly  or  indifferently,  and  so  made  no  re 
ply.  On  this  silence  Adam  placed  his  own  construe- 


38  NOTHING    BUT    MONEY. 

tion,  and  placed  it  wrongly  of  course.  It  was  from 
moody  self-will,  that  she  did  not  answer  —  so  he  read 
the  reason. 

"  A  woman   doesn't  cry  for  nothing.       What's  the 
matter  ?     What's  gone  wrong  ?     Are  you  sick  ?  " 

Lydia  had  drawn  a  chair  up  to  the  little  work-stand, 
on  which  a  lamp  burned,  and  near  which  her  husband 
sat  with  his  newspaper  in  his  hand.  She  had  already 
taken  some  needle-work  into  her  lap.  The  tone  in 
which  he  asked  these  questions,  only  made  a  reply  on 
her  part  the  more  impossible  ;  and  so  she  bent  her  head 
down  over  the  sewing  she  had  taken  up,  and  gave  no 
response.  This,  to  Adam,  was  like  placing  an  obstruc 
tion  in  a  flowing  stream.  The  waters  of  his  mind  be 
came  agitated,  and  bore  onward  in  turbulence. 

"  Can't  you  speak  ?     Haven't  you  a  tongue  ?  " 

Lydia  started,  looked  up  at  her  husband  in  a  bewil 
dered  way,  and  then  burst  into  tears,  sobbing  violently. 

Adam  Guy  was  at  fault.  He  was  dealing  with  an 
unknown  element.  A  woman's  mind  is  a  mystery  to 
most  men  —  most  of  all  to  men  like  Adam  Guy  ;  yet 
have  such  men,  in  their  blind  antagonisms  the  fatal 
power  of  wounding  to  the  heart's  core.  He  sat,  coldly 
observing  the  agitation  of  his  wife,  until  her  sobs  gave 
way  to  an  occasional  short  spasm  in  breathing,  and 
these  at  length  to  low,  fluttering  sighs. 

"  I  think,  Lydia,"  said  Adam,  in  a  firm  voice,  when 
the  storm  of  feeling  had  completely  died  away,  "  that 
you  have  permitted  a  very  small  matter  to  come  in,  and 
make  itself  a  disturber  of  our  peace.  I  objected,  as  I 
claim  that  I  have  the  right  to  do,  to  waste  of  money  in 


NOTHING    BUT   MONEY.  39 

any  form.  I  objected  to  the  purchase  of  useless  flow 
ers  ;  and  I  still  object.  You  charged  me  with  stepping 
beyond  my  prerogative.  That  was  unwisely  remarked, 
permit  me  to  say,  and  does  not  set  well  upon  my  mind. 
You  threatened  to  do  as  you  pleased,  and  I  warned  you 
against  such  folly,  and  again  warn  you.  I  am  not  a 
man  to  turn  aside  when  I  know  myself  to  be  in  the 
right ;  and  I  am  very  certain  of  my  position  in  this 
matter.  I  am  a  poor  young  man,  with  my  way  to 
make  in  the  world.  I  earn  my  money  by  hard  and  pa 
tient  industry,  and  cannot  see  it  thrown  away  in  trifles. 
You  know  my  opinion  of  flowers.  I  gave  it  to-dav ; 
and  it  is,  and  will  remain,  unchanged.  Money  spent 
in  them  I  hold  to  be  worse  than  wasted.  A  bouquet 
fades  in  a  day,  and  the  money  it  costs  might  as  well 
have  been  cast  into  the  sea.  Pot  flowers  are  a  constant 
care,  and  involve  waste  of  time,  in  addition  to  waste 
of  money  —  and  time  is  money.  So,  you  see  that  I 
have  common  sense  and  prudence  on  my  side,  opposed 
to  weak  fancy  and  extravagance.  I'm  sorry  you  have 
taken  so  small  a  matter  into  suctt  serious  account  — 
that  you  have  made  yourself  unhappy  about  a  poor  ge 
ranium.  Now,  let  me  beg  of  you  to  rise  above  all  girl 
ish  weaknesses  of  this  kind,  and  be  a  sensible  woman 
—  all  in  earnest  as  to  life's  true  objects.  There  are 
more  enduring  things  than  flowers  to  be  gained,  Lydia. 
Let  us  see  eye  to  eye  —  let  us  keep  step  in  our  onward 
march  to  a  high  place  in  the  world  —  let  us  deny  all 
mere  self-indulgences,  that  are  unsatisfying  at  best,  and 
always  enervating,  and  press  forward  to  the  attainment 
of  real  and  abiding  things.  Let  us  spare  now,  to  spend 
in  the  coming  time,  when  we  can  afford  to  spend." 


40  NOTHING    BUT    MONEY. 

Adam  Guy  paused.  His  young  wife  was  bending 
closer  over  her  work,  than  when  he  commenced  speak 
ing,  and  her  hand  moved  steadily  and  quickly.  She 
did  not  look  up,  nor  answer. 

"  Am  I  not  right  ?  Does  not  your  own  better  judg 
ment  approve  what  I  say  ?  " 

But  she  made  no  response. 

"  Lydia  !  " 

She  looked  up,  showing  a  pale  face  and  red  eyes. 

"  Why  don't  you  answer  ?  " 

Her  eyes,  with  an  expression  in  them  so  strange, 
that  he  scarcely  knew  them  as  the  eyes  of  his  wife, 
looked  steadily  into  his.  But  there  was  no  reply  on 
her  lips. 

"  Have  you  nothing  to  say  ?  "  demanded  Guy. 

"  Nothing."  How  calm  and  cold  her  voice  !  It  gave 
not  a  sign  of  feeling.  Her  eyes  fell  away  from  the  eyes 
of  her  husband,  and  went  back  to  the  sewino;  in  her 

7  O 

lap.  The  needle  hand,  which  had  paused  with  the 
thread  half  drawn,  took  on  again  its  quick  and  steady 
motion  ;  and  there  was  silence  between  them  through 
all  the  evening  hours —  silence  and  alien  thoughts. 


CHAPTER  V. 


dwelling  of  Dr.  Edward  Hofland.  It 
stood  a  little  back  from  the  street,  with 
a  garden  and  shrubbery  in  front,  ar 
ranged  in  the  neatest  order.  The 
house  was  called  a  half-house,  standing 
with  the  end  to  the  street,  the  front 
door  opening  directly  into  the  parlor  — 
a  side  door  led  into  a  narrow  entry,  from  which  the 
stairs  ascended.  On  one  side  of  this  entry,  was  the 
parlor  ;  on  the  other,  a  small  dining  or  sitting  room, 
and  next  to  this  the  kitchen.  The  house  was  but  two 
stories  high,  with  an  attic,  and  all  the  rooms  were 
small. 

For  this  modest  abode,  the  doctor,  paid  two  hundred 
dollars  a  year.  Its  garden  in  front  had  pleased  his 
taste,  and  he  had  taken  it  in  preference  to  one  with 
quite  as  much  room,  which  would  only  have  cost  one 
hundred  and  fifty  dollars.  This  fact  was  known  to  his 
old  friend,  Adam  Guy,  who  had  blamed  him  as  extrav 
agant,  in  no  choice  terms  —  not  to  himself,  of  course, 
but  in  conversations  with  his  wife.  A  reason,  besides 
the  gratification  of  his  taste,  and  one  which  did  not 


42  NOTHING    BUT   MONEY. 

come  into  the  thought  of  Adam  Guy,  had  also  influ 
enced  the  doctor  in  making  his  selection.  As  a  profes 
sional  man,  success  depended,  in  some  degree,  on  social 
appearances ;  and  he  was  very  well  satisfied  that  the 
more  tasteful  looking  house  would  prove  the  cheapest  — 
and  he  was  right  so  far. 

Let  us  look  in  upon  the  doctor  and  his  wife,  on  the 
evening  which  passed  so  drearily,  and  with  such  a 
bad  promise  for  Adam  Guy  and  Lydia. 

Doctor  Hofland  was  a  quiet,  thoughtful,  rather  grave 
looking  young  man,  just  a  little  above  the  medium 
height,  slender,  of  fair  complexion,  and  clearly  cut  fea 
tures.  His  eyes  were  brown  rather  than  blue,  and 
dark  for  his  complexion.  They  were  grave,  like  his 
face,  but,  like  his  face,  kindled  beautifully  when  thought 
grew  active,  or  his  feelings  warmed.  His  whole  air 
was  refined  —  his  manner  quiet,  —  gentlemanly. 

The  young  wife  of  Dr.  Hofland  was  of  a  different 
temperament  from  her  husband,  and  as  different  as  to 
personal  appearance.  She  possessed  a  clear,  strong, 
resolute  mind,  which  was  under  the  discipline  of  sound, 
good  sense,  ardent  but  not  blindly  impulsive  feelings,  a 
cheerful  disposition,  and  a  warmly  affectionate  nature. 
She  had  a  round  full  face,  complexion  dark,  eyes  black, 
full  of  light,  and  all  alive  when  she  spoke.  You  would 
not  call  her  features  regular,  but  would  say  — "  How 
beautiful !  "  at  the  first  glance.  Lena  was  a  charming 
young  woman,  the  favorite  of  all  who  knew  her,  and 
the  tenderly  loved  wife  of  an  appreciative  husband. 

We  may  always  know  something  of  people's  charac 
ters,  by  the  things  with  which  they  surround  themselves. 


NOTHING    BUT    MONEY.  43 

Swedenborg  says,  that,  in  heaven,  the  scenery  and 
objects  by  which  angels  are  surrounded,  and  even  the 
garments  they  wear,  are  representative  of  their  states, 
and  change  always  as  their  states  change.  The  same 
thing  is  true  of  men  and  women  in  this  world,  only  the 
changes  here  do  not  take  place  immediately,  but  by 
gradual  progressions  —  mind  acting  but  feebly  on  the 
hard  substances  of  nature,  and  moulding  them  to  its 
ideal  shapes  by  slow  degrees.  In  a  man's  dress  —  in 
his  house  and  furniture  —  in  all  material  things,  that  he 
selects  and  arranges  as  the  ultimate  forms  of  his  thought 
and  affection,  we  see  images  of  himself,  and  comprehend 
therefrom  the  quality  of  his  mind.  As  his  character 
changes,  we  see  corresponding  changes  in  his  exterior 
things. 

In  the  furnishing  of  Adam  Guy's  house,  the  man's 
character  was  clearly  illustrated.  Love  of  money  was 
his  ruling  desire,  and  to  this  everything  had  to  be 
subordinated.  Mere  ornament,  in  his  eyes,  was  a 
superfluity  — a  useless  waste —  and  so  only  the  plainest 
and  least  costly  articles  were  bought.  There  was  noth 
ing,  out  toward  which  taste  could  go,  and  rest  in  tranquil 
delight. 

Let  us  see  how  it  is  with  Doctor  Hofland.  An  in 
grain  carpet  is  on  the  floor  of  his  small  parlor,  but  it 
cost  ten  cents  a  yard  more  than  that  of  Adam  Guy,  the 
extra  ten  cents  having  been  paid  in  consideration  of  a 
finer  quality  and  more  tasteful  pattern.  The  chairs,  in 
stead  of  being  solid  "  Windsor,"  are  "  cane-seat,"  black, 
with  ornamental  gilding.  Instead  of  a  cheap  mantle 
glass  there  is  a  small  French  clock ;  and  in  place  of  th  e 


44  NOTHING    BUT    MONEY. 

two  glass  lamps,  a  pair  of  neat  china  vases,  that  rarely 
miss  their  burden  of  fragrant  flowers.  A  pair  of  card 
tables  stand  on  opposite  sides  of  the  room ;  and  in  front 
of  the  fire-place,  with  its  shining  fender  and  andirons,  is 
a  small  center-table,  covered  with  books.  Three  or  four 
choice  engravings  ornament  the  walls.  How  clearly 
does  every  article,  as  well  as  the  style  of  arrangement, 
indicate  the  mental  quality  of  the  directing  mind  or 
minds.  Here,  husband  and  wife  acted  in  sweet  harmony, 
and  their  home  gives  expression  to  their  mental  states. 
In  the  other  case,  Guy's  will  governed  in  the  selection  of 
nearlv  every  article,  and  in  his  home  you  saw  an  outbirth 
of  his  state  and  character  only.  In  the  things  by  which 
he  had  surrounded  himself  and  wife,  Lydia's  mind  did 
not  rest  in  calm  content.  Taste  and  feeling  went  out 
in  a  restless  search  for  objects  in  fuller  correspondence 
with  themselves,  and  came  back  weary  and  dissatisfied. 
A  few  seemingly  unimportant  changes  in  the  style  of 
their  furniture  —  a  trifling,  and  not  costly  addition  here 
and  there,  a  little  more  of  the  "  uselessly  ornamental," 
and  it  would  have  made  all  the  difference  in  the  world 
to  her.  But  Adam  Guy  saw  in  all  this  but  weakness 
and  folly.  The  useful  only  had  attractions  for  his  eyes  ; 
and  what  he  meant  by  the  useful  referred  to  the  mere 
wants  of  natural  life,  as  the  basis  of  effort  toward  worldly 
accumulation.  Whatever  came  not  in  this  category  was 
superfluous,  and  to  be  rejected.  He  could  subsist  on 
husks,  but  not  so  the  more  delicately  organized  nature 
of  his  wife.  On  the  fare  that  would  sustain  him  she 
would  feel  the  tooth  of  a  perpetual  hunger,  and  her  life, 
only  half-developed,  beat  about  in  restless,  weary,  un- 


NOTHING    BUT   MONEY.  45 

satisfied  consciousness  of  defect  —  halting,  astray,  and 
stumbling  in  weakness  and  sadness  to  the  very  end. 

A  lamp  was  burning  cheerfully  on  the  centre  table  in 
Doctor  Hofland's  little  parlor,  and  his  wife  sat  by  it 
sewing,  when  the  doctor  came  in  from  a  professional 
call.  Tea  had  been  waiting  for  some  time. 

{'  You  are  late,  dear,"  said  Lena,  as  she  received  her 
young  husband's  fond  kiss  on  almost  bridal  lips. 

"  Yes  ;  I  went  to  see  a  poor  woman  on  Fell's  Point. 
I  am  attending  a  Mrs.  Helme  in  Exeter  Street,  and  she 
told  me  about  her  mother  down  on  the  Point,  who  was 
very  ill,  and  begged  me  to  go  and  see  her ;  and  I  could 
not,  of  course,  refuse.  God's  poor  are  always  with  us, 
and  we  cannot  turn  from  them,  when  they  stretch  their 
hands  toward  us,  and  be  conscience-clear — at  least  as 
a  physician,  I  cannot." 

The  tea-bell  rang  at  this  moment,  and  they  went  to 
the  dining-room,  where,  their  single  domestic  having 
supplied  everything  for  the  table,  they  were  alone. 

"  I  didn't  tell  you  that  I  called  to  see  Lydia  this 
morning,"  said  Mrs.  Hofland,  as  she  handed  her  hus 
band  a  cup  of  tea. 

"  No  ;  how  is  she  ?  " 

"  Very  well." 

"  And  happy  as  the  da}*  is  long,"  remarked  the  doc 
tor. 

"  I  don't  know  about  that,"  replied  Lena,  a  slight 
change  in  the  sunny  glow  of  her  face.  "  I  can't  think 
it  possible  for  a  woman  of  Lydia's  peculiar  character 
to  be  happy  with  a  man  like  Adam  Guy." 

"  He  was  never  a  favorite  of  yours." 


46  NOTHING    BUT   MONEY. 

"  O  dear,  no !  His  sphere  has  always  chilled  me. 
My  freedom  is  gone  in  his  presence.  I  feel  like  a 
blossom  shrinking  in  a  frost-breath." 

"  But,  Lydia  found  in  him  a  congenial  spirit.  All  are 
not  alike." 

«'  I  cannot  but  feel,"  said  Lena,  "  that,  in  wooing 
Lydia,  Guy  assumed  a  character  not  in  agreement  with 
his  true  quality  ;  and  to-day  I  thought  I  could  detect 
signs  of  an  awakening  to  a  hard  realization  of  the  fact 
that  their  lives  were  not,  and  never  could  be,  in  harmo- 

»y." 

"  Adam  loves  money,"  said  the  doctor. 

"  And  means  to  accumulate  it.  Lydia  said  that  his 
salary  had  been  advanced  to  twelve  hundred  dollars." 

"  Ah  !  I'm  pleased  to  know  that.  The  doctor  spoke 
with  genuine  pleasure. 

"And  it  will  not  cost  them  six  hundred  to  live,  Lydia 
says." 

"  So  they  will  be  six  hundred  dollars  better  off  every 
year.  A  comfortable  prospect." 

"  And,  moreover,  Adam  anticipates  an  interest  in  the 
firm.  Give  him  that  position,  said  Lydia,  and  to  use 
his  own  language,  'he  will  snap  his  fingers  in  the  world's 
face.'  Now,  doesn't  that  express  the  man's  true  char 
acter  in  a  sentence  ?  Snap  his  fingers  in  the  world's 
face  !  He's  selfish  to  the  core,  Edward  —  selfish  to  the 
core !  And,  as  the  sure  consequence,  unhappy.  I  told 
Lydia  how  hopeful  and  cheerful  you  were  in  your 
small  beginnings  and  clouded  future ;  and  she  said, 
with  a  sigh,  that  her  husband  was  not  so  easy  in  mind. 
How  can  he  be  ?  Love  of  money,  and  the  narrow 


NOTHING    BUT    MONEY.  47 

spirit  of  selfishness,  which  always  accompanies  it,  are 
never  satisfied  with  the  present,  nor  resigned  as  to  the 
future.  Men  like  Adam  Guy  are  always  impatient  in 
the  present,  because  gain  comes  too  slowly  for  their  de 
sires,  and  restless  about  the  future,  lest  their  one  great 
cast  in  life  should  fail." 

"  He  will  snap  his  fingers  in  the  world's  face !  "  said 
the  doctor,  in  a  tone  that  mingled  surprise,  regret,  and 
disappointment  —  as  if  an  unpleasant  revelation  had 
come  to  his  mind.  "  I  don't  like  that,  Adam  Guy. 
Snap  your  fingers  in  the  world's  face  !  No  man  can 
afford  to  do  this.  No  man  is  true  to  himself;  far  less 
true  to  society,  who  lives  in  that  spirit.  I  knew  he 
was  selfish,  and  a  money  lover,  but  I  hardly  thought 
him  so  blind  and  foolish  in  his  selfishness  as  this.  Alas 
for  him,  and  alas  for  his  wife,  if  his  words  express  a 
true  purpose  !  Life  will  prove  to  him,  and  it  may  be 
to  her,  also  the  saddest  of  failures.  The  life  is  more 
than  meat  and  the  body  than  raiment.  What  is  simple 
possession  —  what  is  wealth  —  if  made  more  than  the 
life  ?  A  burden  and  a  curse  —  nothing  less,  nothing 
more,  as  thousands,  if  the  heart  spoke  out,  would  testi 
fy.  And  yet,  the  thousands  who  succeed  them  go  on 
in  the  same  blind,  besotted  way  —  stifling  the  soul's 
higher  instincts,  dwarfing  its  powers,  suppressing  its 
yearnings  after  the  things  for  which  it  hungers  and 
thirsts  with  an  immortal  desire  —  and  for  what  ?  Just 
for  gold  —  for  gold,  and  the  unsatisfying  good  that  gold 
can  buy  —  this,  and  no  more  —  no  more.  If  Adam  is 
going  to  walk  in  the  broad  way  to  misery  —  to  misery 
in  this  world,  I  mean,  for  there  is  no  happiness  by  the 
Avay  nor  at  the  end  —  I  pity  him  from  my  heart." 


48  NOTHING    BUT    MONEY. 

"  But  most  of  all,  I  pity  Lydia,"  said  Lena.  "  If 
Adam  will  make  his  bed  of  husks,  and  put  thorns  in  his 
own  pillow,  let  him  enjoy  them  if  he  can ;  but  for  Ly 
dia  !  Ah,  my  heart  grows  faint  for  her.  She  is  of  a 
purer  substance,  and  of  a  tenderer  organization.  She 
will  have  no  sordid  loves  to  sustain  her — no  end  of  world 
ly  gain  or  worldly  pride,  like  him ;  and  so  must  endure 
or  die.  This  marriage  is  a  serious  thing,  Edward. 
Thank  God,  that  you  are  not  like  Adam  Guy  !  Could 
we  be  happier  in  a  palace  than  in  this  modest  home  of 
ours  ?  Would  hundreds  of  thousands  of  dollars  make 
our  hearts  beat  in  closer  unison,  aud  fill  them  with  a 
purer  happiness  ?  " 

"  Not  unless  our  lives  were  in  accord  with  all  things 

O 

good,  and  true,  and  beautiful.  Not  unless  in  our  souls 
were  the  spiritual  riches  to  which  this  outward  wealth 
corresponded.  Anything  less  than  this,  and  the  ex 
change  would  be  to  our  loss,  instead  of  gain." 

"  So  I  feel,  and  say,  thank  God,  that  you  are  wiser 
than  most  men  !  "  And  Lena  threw  tender  glances  upon 
her  husband. 

•'  It  is  one  thing  to  see  clearly  the  right  way  in  which 
to  walk,  and  another  thing  to  go  forward  in  that  way," 
said  the  doctor.  "  I  can  philosophize,  but  do  not  find 
myself  living  up  to  the  philosophy  I  approve." 

"  That  is  the  experience  of  every  one,"  answered 
Lena.  "  Our  ideals  must  always  embrace  unattained 
good,  or  there  would  be  no  going  on  toward  perfection. 
But,  in  our  contrasts  with  others  we  are  able  to  see  the 
positions  we  occupy.  Take  Adam,  for  instance,  pro 
posing  to  snap  his  fingers  in  the  world's  face  so  soon  as 


NOTHING    BUT   MONEY.  49 

he  is  rich  enough  to  cure  for  nobody,  and  contrast  your 
ends  of  life  with  his,  as  expressed  in  that  declaration. 
How  much  higher  you  stand  !  You  are  wiser  and  bet 
ter  than  that,  my  husband — wiser  and  better  than  that, 
thank  God!" 


CHAPTER   VI. 


FTER  tea,  Doctor  Hofland  spent  the 
evening  with  his  wife,  reading  and 
conversing  in  their  little  parlor.  Pa 
tients  were  not  in  abundance  yet,  and 
he  had  time  on  his  hands.  They 
talked  of  many  things,  and  dwelt, 
with  hope  and  interest,  on  their  fu 
ture.  Like  Adam  Guy,  Doctor  Hof 
land  had  visions  of  advancement  in 
the  world  ;  of  success  in  his  profession  ;  of  accumula 
tion.  He  looked  forward  to  the  day  when  a  widely  ex 
tended  practice  would  give  him  a  liberal  income,  in 
fluence,  and  position — looked  forward,  selfishly,  as  all 
men  in  whom  natural  life  has  not  become  subordinated 
to  a  spiritual  and  regenerate  life,  look.  But,  unlike  his 
friend,  Adam  Guy,  his  thought  did  not  centre  upon  and 
revolve  only  around  himself.  He  had  generous  thoughts 
and  purposes  toward  others- — humanitary  ends — aspira 
tions  that  included  the  common  good.  Sordid  love  of 
money  was  not  an  element  of  his  nature.  He  had  no 
desire  to  accumulate,  merely  for  the  sake  of  riches,  and 
the  selfish  independence  of  the  world  their  possession 
would  give.  As  thought  went  forward  to  the  time 
when  he  should  have  money  at  command,  and  influence 


NOTHING.  BUT    MONEY.  51 

among  men,  he  loved  to  dweH  on  embryo  schemes  of 
social  good — benevolent,  educational,  or  industrial. 
Means  to  ends,  he  did  not  see  clearly.  That  time  was 
yet  to  arrive.  He  was  young  and  immature.  But  the 
germs  of  good  citizenship  were  in  his  heart,  and  fructi 
fying  life  was  beginning  to  stir  their  latent  forces  with 
a  prophecy  of  things  to  come. 

"  If  I  were  only  rich  !  "  How  often  did  this  sentence 
fall  from  his  lips,  as  he  looked  on  poverty  and  suffering, 
or  contemplated  the  mental  and  moral  destitution  around 
him.  And  there  were  times  when,  in  the  ardor  of  his 
desire  to  relieve  want,  or  help  forward  in  some  good 
enterprise,  he  fancied  himself  free  from  selfishness,  and 
willing  to  devote  all  his  powers  to  the  service  of  others. 
In  this,  though  it  was  but'  an  ideal  state  of  good,  there 
was  given  a  reward.  Into  even  the  desire  to  benefit 
others  flows  a  blessing  —  how  much  higher  the  blessing 
for  those  who  make  desire  an  ultimate  actuality. 

"  If  I  were  only  rich  !  "  There  is  not  a  moment  of 
time  in  which  this  aspiration  does  not  rise  from  some 
heart  dissatisfied  with  the  amount  of  possession  God  has 
given.  "  If  I  were  only  rich  !  "  said  Doctor  Hofland, 
as  he  sat  in  his  little  earthly  paradise  that  evening, 
"  the  world  should  be  better  for  at  least  one  life.  I 
would  not  hoard  my  money  for  spendthrift  heirs,  nor 
mortuary  endowments  —  but  scatter  blessings  as  I  passed 
along.  Rich  men  are  God's  almoners.  Alas  !  how  few 
are  conscious  of  their  responsibility,  or  dream  that  a 
day  of  reckoning  must  come." 

The  doctor's  mind  was  excited,  and  his  imagination 
fast  bearing  him  away.  But,  a  word  from  his  wife  drew 


52  NOTHING    BUT    MONEY. 

him  back  again,  and  his  wings  drooped  from  their  airy 
flight. 

"  God  only  requires  a  use  of  the  talents  given,"  said 
she.  "  Are  we  not  all  almoners  in  our  sphere  of  life  ?  " 

"  Truly  said,  Lena  !  and  I  stand  reproved." 

"  No,  no,  not  reproved."  There  was  a  tone  of  dep 
recation  on  Lena's  lips. 

"  Corrected,  then,  darling.  Thank  you  for  clipping 
the  wings  of  my  too  aspiring  imagination.  It  is  even 
as  you  have  said  ;  God  only  requires  a  use  of  the  tal 
ents  bestowed.  I  am  rich  !  Rich  in  the  power  to  do 
good.  I  have  but  to  dispense,  freely,  according  to  the 
ability  He  has  given.  Like  to  many  others,  I  look  away 
from  my  present  sphere  of  life,  and  long  for  a  wider 
field  and  higher  opportunities.  But,  if  not  faithful  in 
what  is  least,  how  can  I  expect  to  be  trusted  in  greater 
things." 

"  Ah,  if  we  could  always  keep  that  thought  in  mind, 
how  much  more  of  peaceful  life  would  be  ours.  Faith 
ful  to-day.  Let  that  be  our  motto,  Edward.  Faithful 
to-day." 

The  eyes  of  Dr.  Hofland  turned  from  the  face  of  his 
wife,  and  a  sigh  fluttered  softly  on  his  lips. 

"  Is  not  that  the  right  doctrine  ?  "  Mrs.  Hofland 
leaned  toward  her  husband,  and  laid  a  hand  gently  on 
his  arm. 

"  Yes,  darling.  It  is  the  true  doctrine.  Faithful  to 
day  ;  and  an  impressive  sense  of  its  truth  has  sobered 
me.  Faithful  to-day  !  Ah  !  it  is  this  looking  beyond 
to-day  —  this  living  in  our  to-morrows,  that  is  such  a 
hindrance  to  useful  life.  Our  powers  do  not  come 


NOTHING    BUT    MONEY.  53 

down  with  that  will  into  the  present,  which  is  needed 
to  give  them  true  efficiency.  We  reserve  strength  for 
the  future,  instead  of  putting  it  all  forth  in  our  to-days. 
Faithful  to-day.  You  have  expressed  life's  true  philos 
ophy  in  its  simplest  formula.  Let  us  accept  the  axiom 
as  our  rule  of  conduct.  If  our  present  work  is  always 
taken  up  and  faithfully  done,  we  need  have  no  anxiety 
about  the  future.  As  servants  of  the  Heavenly  Master, 
whose  hands  never  lie  idle,  the  right  work  for  us  to  do 
will  be  given  in  the  right  time.  He  knows  what  is  best 
for  us,  and  best  for  those  to  whom  good  is  to  come 
through  our  life  in  the  world." 

"  I  do  not  think,"  said  Lena,  "  that  we  shall  ever 
be  happier  than  now.  Oh,  is  not  life  sweet  to  us  !  " 
And  her  bright  face  grew  sunnier.  "  God  was  good  to 
me  when  he  put  love  in  your  heart,  Edward.  I  pray 
to  become  worthy  of  your  love." 

"  If  eye  sees  fo  eye,  and  heart  beats  to  heart,  darling, 
ever  as  now,  life  shall  be  to  us  one  long,  sweet  day  of 
happiness,"  returned  the  young  husband,  breathing  the 
words  on  Lena's  lips.  "  There  will  be  care  and  toil ; 
hope  and  disappointment ;  sorrow  and  pain  —  but,  with 
a  love  in  our  hearts  growing  purer,  stronger,  and  more 
heavenly  in  its  origin  all  the  while,  we  shall  never  sit  in 
darkness  —  shall  never  be  comfortless." 

"  Purer  and  more  heavenly,"  said  Lena,  as  her  eyes 
expressed  deeper  meanings,  "  the  words  bring  back  what 
our  minister  said  yesterday,  that  true  marriage  was  a 
union  of  souls.  '  What  God  joins  together,'  he  said, 
had  a  significance  deeper  than  came  to  the  common  ap 
prehension.  God  conjoins  in  marriage  by  means  of 


54  NOTHING    BUT    MONEY. 

spiritual  affinities,  and  these  are  heavenly.  Without  a 
good  life,  he  argued,  no  true  interior  marriage  was  pos 
sible.  There  might  be  a  likeness  and  a  nearness  of 

~ 

souls  from  natural  affinities  ;  but  genuine  interior  mar 
riage  —  that  conjunction  which  made  of  two  minds, 
male  and  female,  one  harmoniously  pulsating  individual 
ity,  for  all  time  and  eternity  —  only  took  place  with 
those  who,  through  obedience  to  God's  spiritual  laws, 
advanced  from  natural  into  spiritual  life  along  the  grad 
ually  ascending  way  of  regeneration.  I  have  thought 
about  that  new  doctrine  of  marriage,  Edward,  a  great 
deal.  Shall  we  be  thus  conjoined,  dear  husband  ?  That 
would  indeed  be  heaven  !  " 

"  And  I  have  thought  of  it,  also,"  replied  Dr.  Hof- 
land.  "  Our  minister  was  right  in  what  he  said.  The 
truth  of  his  words  came  like  sun-rays,  bearing  illustra 
tion  into  my  mind.  God  must  join  together  by  spiritu 
al  affinities,  and  these  are  heavenly  affinities.  May  He 
do  his  good  work  in  our  hearts,  Lena,  that  we  may  be 
one  forever!  " 


CHAPTER  VII. 


HE  heart  never  loses  its  memory.  Ev 
ery  experience  records  itself  so  indeli 
bly,  that,  always,  what  has  preceded 
in  our  lives  throws  its  shadows  or  sun 
shine  on  succeeding  states.  We  can 
not  forget,  if  we  would. 

Lydia  could  not  forget.  Alas,  no  I 
The  record  of  that  day,  when  she 
awoke,  suddenly,  to  the  truth  in  regard 
to  her  husband's  character,  was  an  uneffaceable  record, 
engraven,  as  with  a  pen  of  iron  ;  and,  in  all  her  after 
life,  from  the  sad,  disheartening  page,  not  a  line  or  word 
was  obliterated.  And  other  records  followed  —  sadder 
and  more  painful  —  followed  in  quick  succession,  as 
Adam  Guy  put  off  concealments,  and  let  his  true  qual 
ity  and  ends  of  life  appear  without  disguise.  He  was 
a  hard,  resolute  man,  and  trampled  on  all  weaknesses  as 
obstructions  in  his  way.  In  his  first  conflict  with  Ly 
dia  he  saw  that  she  possessed  certain  traits  of  character 
that  might  be  difficult  to  manage,  and  had  a  certain  re 
active  force,  the  ground  of  which  was  not  understood. 

*  O 

But  it  was  no  part  of  his  system  to  study  a  case,  and 
with  shrewd  diplomacy,  adapt  himself  thereto,  gaining 
his  ends  by  Jesuitical  craft.  He  moved  forward  in  di- 


56  NOTHING   BUT    MONEY. 

recter  lines,  bearing  clown  opposition  by  the  force  of  an 
imperious  will.  He  knew  only  the  bend  or  break  sys 
tem.  And  so,  the  conflict  begun,  there  was  on  his  side 
no  furling  of  banner,  nor  sheathing  of  sword.  It  was 
war  to  the  bitter  end. 

During  the  first  year  of  Adam  and  Lydia's  married 
life,  reactions  on  her  part  were,  from  the  out-reaching 
necessities  of  her  nature,  frequent ;  but  always  she  had 
to  retire,  with  a  heart  bruised,  bleeding,  and  palsied, 
from  the  contest.  If  she  gained  in  anything,  it  was  at 
a  cost  so  far  beyond  the  gain,  that  conquest  was  a  defeat 
instead  of  a  victory.  Day  by  day,  and  week  by  week, 
Guy  became  more  and  more  absorbed  in  money-making. 
Sooner  than  he  had  expected,  an  interest  in  their  business 
had  been  tendered  by  his  employers,  and  he  was  throw- 
ins  himself  into  the  vortex  of  trade  with  an  abandonment 

& 

of  thought  and  purpose  that  dwarfed  all  other  consid 
erations.  In  the  beginning  they  visited  old  friends,  and 
had  evening  visitors  in  return.  A  concert,  a  lecture, 
or  some  public  entertainment,  was,  now  and  then,  added 
as  recreation,  though  the  cost  of  these  made  Adam  rather 
indifferent  to  them  as  sources  of  pleasure.  As  thought 
hovered,  more  steadily,  in  circles  around  his  leading  end 
of  life,  he  grew  more  and  more  indifferent  toward  all 
things  not  ministrant  to  his  avarice,  and,  before  six 
months  had  passed  away,  rarely  stepped  beyond  his  own 
threshold,  after  coming  home  from  the  day's  employ 
ment. 

"  I'm  too  tired  to  go  out,"  was  the  stereotype  reason 
offered,  when  Lydia  suggested  the  return  of  some  friend 
ly  visit.  Indifference  was  the  true  reason.  Sometimes 


NOTHING    BUT    MONEY.  57 

he  would  utter  expressions  of  dislike  toward  the  persons 
mentioned.  In  fact,  this  dislike  of  people  was  a  feeling 
that  gained  on  him  steadily.  Lack  of  thrift  in  a  man 
condemned  him  utterly.  No  matter  what  other  qualities 
he  possessed  —  no  matter  how  gifted  or  useful  in  the 
exercise  of  his  talents,  or  kind  of  heart,  or  self-deilying 
for  the  good  of  others  —  if  he  lacked  the  quality  of  thrift, 
our  young  merchant  despised  him. 

It  can  readily  be  seen  how,  with  such  feelings  as  Adam 
Guy  possessed,  he  would  naturally  separate  himself  from 
all  close  friendships.  These  might  be  entangling  !  Few 
men  were  as  self-dependent,  and  as  earnest^  given  up  to 
the  work  of  money-making  as  he  was,  and,  therefore, 
nearly  all  around  him  were  in  danger  of  stumbling  by 
the  way  ;  and  he  did  not  care  to  have  relations  with  any 
one  of  a  character  to  warrant  applications  for  a  helping 
hand  in  emergency. 

Doctor  Hofland,  his  old  friend,  called  in  now  and 
then,  with  his  wife,  to  sit  an  hour  or  two  in  the  evening. 
While  the  meetings  between  Lydia  and  Lena  were  ten 
der  and  cordial — seasons  of  real  heart-enjoyment  — 
Adam  held  the  doctor  more  and  more  at  a  distance,  and 
rarely  made  any  response  when  the  latter  spoke  of  his 
profession  and  prospects.  His  own  business  Adam  never 
intruded,  and  if  the  conversation  led  him  to  make  any 
reference  thereto,  it  was  of  a  vague  and  rather  dis 
couraging  character.  He  did  not  wish  to  have  the  doc- 

~        fj 

tor  know  that  he  was  beginning  to  accumulate,  lest  he 
should  want  some  help. 

"  We  must,go  around  and  see  Doctor  Hofland  and 
his  wife,'   said  Lydia  one  evening,  several   months  after 
3* 


58  NOTHING    BUT    MONEY. 

the  date  on  which  our  story  opened.  "  It's  more  than 
eight  weeks  since  we  were  there,  and  they've  called  twice 
during  the  time." 

"  I  don't  feel  like  going  out,"  was  Guy's  answer. 

"  We  mustn't  let  feeling  always  influence  us,"  replied 
his  wife.  "  Come  !  I  want  to  see  Lena  to  night.  And 
I  know  yon  will  enjoy  an  hour  with  the  doctor.  He's 
always  so  bright  and  cheerful." 

"It's  more  than  I  know,  then,"  replied  Adam.  "  The 
fact  is,  I  don't  fancy  the  doctor  half  so  much  as  I  once 
did.  He's  getting  prosy." 

"  Prosy  ?  Why,  Adam  !  I  don't  know  a  more  in 
teresting  talker  among  all  our  acquaintances." 

"  He  doesn't  interest  me.  Very  little  that  he  con 
verses  about  comes  within  the  range  of  my  interest.  I 
grow  dumb  in  his  presence." 

"  Why,  Adam  !     How  can  you  say  that  ?  " 

"  I  do  say  it,  and  it's  the  truth.  Doctor  Hofland  or 
I  have  changed  very  materially  in  the  last  year  or  two. 
The  fact  is,  he's  getting  too  wise  —  in  his  own  conceit, 
I  mean.  He  likes  to  show  off  what  he  knows  —  to  talk 
largely  ;  and  that  doesn't  set  well  with  me.  •  I  hate  pre 
tension,  and  always  did." 

Lydia  felt  a  choking  sensation  in  her  throat.  She 
made  no  reply,  and  her  husband  Avent  on. 

"  And  besides,  I  don't  like  the  way  he's  living.  It 
isn't  honest." 

"  Why,  Adam  !  How  can  you  speak  so  of  the  doc 
tor?  "  Feeling  sent  a  glow  to  Lydia's  face. 

"  Because  I  believe  just  what  I  say.  No  man  is 
honest,  in  the  right  meaning  of  the  word  honesty,  who 


NOTHING    BUT    MONEY.  59 

lives  beyond  his  means,  as  he  is  doing.  He's  going  be 
hindhand  every  day,  and  knows  it ;  and  yet,  denies 
himself  nothing.  Every  time  we've  been  there  he's  had 
some  elegant  new  books  to  show,  or  some  costly  engrav 
ing,  or  some  silly  trifle  of  a  parlor  ornament.  Only 
yesterday  I  met  him  with  a  package  in  his  hand,  and  he 
told  me  that  he'd  just  been  buying  a  choice  English 
edition  of  some  new  work  which  I  had  never  heard  of. 
And  then,  I  don't  believe  a  week  passes  over  their 
heads  that  they  are  not  at  some  place  of  amusement. 
All  this  costs  money\  and  somebody  will  have  to  pay  the 
piper.  It  wont  be  me,  though,  I  can  tell  them  !  Adam 
Guy  knows  better  than  that  how  to  take  care  of  his 
money.  Let  them  go  their  ways,  and  we  will  go  ours, 
Lydia.  Doctor  Hofland  is  pretty  nearly  off  of  my  books, 
and  so  is  his  wife.  They're  well  mated,  and  will  pull 
evenly  to  the  edge  of  some  precipice,  and  dash  over- 
together.  Well,  let  them,  if  they  fancy  such  episodes  in 
life  ;  it'll  not  trouble  me.  I've  got  my  own  way  to 
make,  and  shant  bother  myself  with  the  insane  conduct 
of  other  people." 

Lydia  sighed,  and  was  silent.  Every  act  and  sen 
tence  of  her  husband  had  come  to  be  the  turning  of  a 
leaf,  on  which  she  read  a  phase  of  his  character ;  and 
in  all  phases,  the  one  likeness  of  a  sordid  regard  for 
money  was  never  absent.  She  saw  it  in  every  word, 
and  sentence,  and  act.  If  she  opposed  this  love  of 
money,  she  was  hurt  in  the  contact,  always.  It  was 
the  ruling  purpose,  that  set  aside  every  opposing  thing, 
and  ignored  on  bare  suspicion. 

They  did  not  go  to  Doctor  Hofland's  on  that  evening, 


60  NOTHING    BUT    MONEY. 

as  Lydia  had  desired.  Feebly  she  rallied  to  the  argument 
in  defence  of  Lena,  but  was  borne  down  by  an  intem 
perate  dogmatism  that  dealt  in  excessive  condemnation. 

The  truth  was,  apart  from  Guy's  growing  alienation 
of  feeling  toward  Doctor  Hofland,  resulting  from  causes 
already  apparent,  he  did  not  approve  the  influence  of  a 
character  like  that  of  Lena  upon  his  wife.  Lena,  in  his 
eyes,  was  a  worldly,  extravagant  woman,  with  ideas 
wholly  averse  to  true  home  enjoyment ;  and  her  influ 
ence  over  Lydia,  who  was  strongly  attached  to  her, 
could,  in  his  eyes,  only  prove  injurious.  Already  he 
had  noticed  a  change  in  Lydia's  state  of  mind  when 
ever  she  received  a  visit  from  her  friend,  or  spoke  of 
having  called  to  see  her ;  and  the  change  was  adverse 
to  contentment. 

So  little  of  a  yielding  spirit  had  Adam  Guy  shown, 
after  the  honey-moon — so  little  of  deference  to  her 
tastes,  feelings,  or  wishes,  where  they  impinged  in  the 
least  upon  his  darling  love  of  money — that  Lydia  had 
learned  to  be  wilful  and  persistent  in  some  things — to 
require  concessions  that  love,  or  her  husband's  thought 
ful  consideration,  would  not  have  made.  Thus,  in 
three  or  four  months  after  their  marriage,  she  spoke  of 
hiring  a  single  domestic.  There  was  no  response  on 
the  part  of  Adam— he  heard,  but  did  not  answer.  His 
manner,  however,  was  not  to  be  mistaken.  Lydia  un 
derstood  him  fully.  He  could  not  approve.  And  yet, 
for  all  this,  the  domestic  was  employed,  and  Adam  had 
to  submit.  He  took  his  revenge,  however,  after  the 
manner  of  such  men,  by  wearing  a  cftmded  brow,  and 
putting  on  a  chilling  reserve  toward  his  wife,  that  robbed 


NOTHING    BUT    MONEY.  61 

her  days  of  sunshine,  and  made  the  nights   dewy  with 
tears. 

So  in  other  matters  of  minor  concern,  appertaining 
to  Lydia's  domestic  life,  dress,  friendships,  and  expendi 
tures,  she  learned,  by  painful  necessity,  to  act  in  open 
or  concealed  opposition  to  her  husband  in  many  things ; 
yet,  almost  always,  the  opposition  cost  her  only  a  little 
less  suffering  than  submission.  There  were  necessities 
of  her  nature,  free  impulses,  tastes,  that  could  not  be 
wholly  denied.  Life  would  have  gone  out  if  some  ali 
ment  had  not  been  furnished  to  these. 


CHAPTER   VIII. 

HUS,  as  we  have  seen,  Adam  Guy, 
as  fortune  began  to  smile  on  him,  com 
menced  the  work  of  separating  him 
self  from  the  world  as  to  any  persona} 
feeling  or  interest.  The  world  was  a 
foreign  nation,  with  whom  it  was  not 
safe  to  have  any  entangling  alliances. 
Commercially,  and  solely  for  his  own 

»  NqVr^^-.  VJ>-^  •'  * 

(•y  advantage,  he  was  ready  to  hold  rela 

tions  with  this  world,  and  did  hold  relations  —  but  here, 
the  laws  of  trade  and  his  own  shrewdness  protected 
him.  Friendship  and  personal  interest  were  outside  to 
all  these,  and  of  an  entangling  nature  ;  and  so  he  cut 
them  off. 

"  If  I  go  in  a  boat  with  a  man  that  cannot  swim,  and 
a  storm  capsizes  us,  I  may  drown  in  attempting  to  save 
him."  So  Adam  Guy  reasoned  the  matter  with  him 
self.  "  It  is  safest,  therefore,  to  go  alone,  or  not  go  at 
all.  If  I  attempt  to  pass  through  a  wilderness  country 
with  weak  and  sickly  men,  and  they  give  out  by  the 
way,  I  cannot  leave  them  to  perish  without  the  world's 
execration  ;  so  I  will  go,  full  armed  and  provisioned, 
alone.  Let  every  man  take  care  of  himself.  That  is 
my  doctrifte.  If  every  man  makes  himself  safe  and 


NOTHING    BUT    MONEY.  63 

prosperous,  the  world  will  be  all  right,  and  its  affairs 
go  on  bravely.  The  idle,  the  vicious,  the  extravagant, 
and  the  wasteful,  mar  all  the  harmony  of  things,  and 
pull  down  faster  than  the  most  earnest  workers  can 
build.  A  fortune  that  it  takes  a  life  to  accumulate,  is 
wasted,  often,  in  a  year.  But,  no  man  shall  spend  and 
waste  for  me.  Adam  Guy  will  see  well  to  that." 

It  will  thus  be  seen,  that  Guy's  separation  of  him 
self  from  old  intimacies  and  associations  was  not  the 
result  of  a  passing  idea,  nor  based  on  a  growing  indif 
ference  —  but  the  effect  of  a  settled  principle  of  action. 
Money  was  more  to  him  than  friendship,  and  so,  friend 
ship  was  thrown  overboard. 

"  A  babe  in  the  house  is  a  well-spring  of  pleasure  ;  " 
so  says  the  proverb  ;  and  rarely  is  the  sentiment  falsified. 
The  springs  of  pleasure  were  running  low  in  the  house 
of  Adam  Guy,  when  a  babe  came  with  the  sweet  airs 
of  heaven,  odor  laden,  around  it —  came  in  sunshine  to 
a  clouded  home  —  came  to  kindle  love-fires  that  were 
burning  feebly. 

Adam  was  naturally  fond  of  children,  and  this  fond 
ness,  when  it  became  stimulated  by  parental  affection, 
warmed  into  a  tender  solicitude  that  filled  his  heart 
with  a  new  delight.  This  babe  he  could  love  safely ; 
so  he  felt,  even  if  the  thought  did  not  take  a  distinct 

7  O 

form  in  his  mind.  He  could  mould  the  young  being 
to  his  will,  and  make  it  as  sordid,  and  money-loving, 
and  accumulative  as  himself,  and  so  a  safe  companion 
for  the  time  to  come. 

In  another  year  another  babe  came,  and  another  fol 
lowed  at  the  close  of  a  third  annual  cycle.  At  the  close 


64  NOTHING    BUT   MONEY. 

of  ten  years  six  children  made  music  and  discord  both 
in  the  home  of  Adam  Guy  —  discord  for  the  most 
part.  Four  were  boys  and  two  girls. 

During  this  period  of  time  Adam  prospered  in  world 
ly  matters.  The  firm  in  which  he  was  a  partner  had 
largely  extended  its  operations,  and  made  heavy  pro 
fits.  Through  the  retirement  of  an  inefficient  member 

O 

of  the  house,  he  Jhad  been  advanced  to  a  higher  and 
more  controlling  position,  with  an  increased  interest  in 
the  business. 

Ten  years  had  wrought  many  changes  in  Adam  Guy. 
You  would  hardly  have  identified  the  self-important, 
yet  complacent  gentleman,  who  quietly  negotiated  with 
you  to-day  for  the  purchase  or  sale  of  half  a  cargo  of 
sugar  or  coffee,  as  the  same  individual  who,  in  the  po 
sition  of  junior  clerk,  opened  the  counting-room  door 
ten  years  gone  by,  and  bowed,  respectfully,  as  you 
passed  in  to  transact  your  business  with  his  superior. 
He  has  developed  rapidly  during  these  ten  years  — 
but  all  in  one  direction.  He  is  a  keen,  eager  merchant, 
and  nothing  else  worth  speaking  of.  A  money-making 
machine,  with  all  the  new  improvements  attached. 
The  whole  force  of  his  life  has  gone  in  one  direction, 
and  made  him  strong,  shrewd,  and  far-seeing  in  all 
things  appertaining  to  his  ruling  desire.  But,  this  de 
velopment  has  been  at  the  expense  of  all  other  facul 
ties  and  endowments.  He  knows  business,  and  the 
things  appertaining  thereto  ;  but  outside  of  this  he  is  icr- 
norant  and  feeble-minded.  Touch  him  on  the  common 
intellectual  topics  of  the  day,  and  you  will  meet  with 
no  clear  response  ;  get  his  opinion  on  a  question  of  do- 


NOTHING    BUT    MONEY.  65 

mestic  government,  and  its  lack  of  common  sense  will 
surprise  you  ;  on  the  education  of  children  —  on  home 
management  —  on  right  conduct  in  life  —  on  man's  so- 

f*  C5 

cial  duties  —  on  taste,  art,  or  literature  —  and  the  man's 
utter  want  of  perception,  judgment,  and  information, 
will  stand  out  in  singular  relief.  And  yet,  he  will  talk 
dogmatically,  and  have  his  will  where  rule  is  possible, 
though  every  step  be  taken  with  crushing  force,  and 
hearts  bleed  under  his  iron  heel.  Where  the  love  of 
money  comes  in  and  rules  the  man,  he  becomes  an  im 
placable  tyrant. 

Another  change  we  must  note.  The  strong  desire 
for  money  which  filled  the  heart  of  Adam  Guy,  extin 
guished,  as  we  have  seen,  all  pride  of  appearance  in 
the  beginning.  But,  mercantile  pride,  as  wealth  began 
to  accumulate,  stimulated  personal  pride.  Adam  Guy, 
the  merchant,  was  beginning  to  stand  out  before  the 
people,  and  Adam  Guy  must  look  to  his  style  of  living. 
The  little  house,  with  street  door  opening  into  the  ten 
by  sixteen  feet  parlor,  might  do  for  Adam  Guy,  the 
clerk,  but  it  was  hardly  the  thing  for  Adam  Guy,  the 
merchant.  Something  was  due  to  appearances.  So, 
two  years  after  his  marriage,  a  larger  house  was  taken 
—  one  with  a  passage  running  through  the  front  build 
ing,  and  separating  two  parlors  with  folding  doors. 
Three  hundred  dollars  were  spent  in  additional  furni 
ture.  But,  in  making  this  addition,  avarice  was  in 
steady  conflict  with  taste  and  pride.  Avarice  contend 
ed  for  cheapness,  and  avarice  conquered  in  almost  ev 
ery  instance,  though  Lydia  was  always  on  the  side  of 
taste  and  pride,  and  got  wounds  and  bruises  not  a  few 
in  the  contests. 


66  NOTHING    BUT    MONEY. 

After  the  pain  in  parting  with  money  in  taking  on  a 
more  expensive  style  of  living,  had  in  a  measure  subsid 
ed,  our  young  merchant  found  a  certain  poor  compen 
sation  in  contrasting  himself  with  others.  On  his  way 
to  and  from  his  business,  he  passed,  daily,  the  modest 
little  home  of  Doctor  Hofland,  with  whom  he  main 
tained  the  outward  signs  of  friendship  when  they  hap 
pened  to  meet  —  their  visiting  courtesies  had  ceased 
long  ago  —  and  something  of  contempt  for  its  mean 
ness,  mingled  with  his  pride.  His  prophecy  in  regard 
to  the  doctor's  certain  embarrassment  had  come  true. 
Income  and  expenditure  had  not  been  rightly  adjusted, 
and  debt  was  the  consequence.  Once,  under  extremity, 
the  doctor  ventured  to  ask  the  tempoary  loan  of  a  hun 
dred  dollars.  He  did  not  get  the  money,  and  never 
made  a  second  application  in  that  quarter. 

For  the  space  of  five  years,  Adam  maintained  him 
self  with  but  few  additions  of  furniture,  in  this  second 
home.  Lydia,  whose  maternal  duties  were  blended 
with  household  cares,  conducted  her  increased  establish 
ment  with  notable  economy,  yet  never  to  the  satisfac 
tion  of  her  husband.  He  supplied  her  but  meagerly 
with  money,  and  forced  her,  in  consequence,  to  make 
bills  at  grocers,  dry  goods  dealers,  shoe  makers,  and  so 
on,  and  scolded  roundly  when  he  had  to  pay  them.  He 
grumbled  if  fuel  needed  replenishing,  and  insisted  that 
wood  and  coal  were  burned  unnecessarily.  A  hundred 
mean  little  things  were  done  in  the  line  of  economies 
that  we  cannot  stop  to  particularize,  and  which  made 
him  contemptible  in  the  eyes  of  servants,  and,  we  might 
almost  say,  in  the  eyes  of  his  wife  also,  from  whose  heart 


NOTHING    BUT    MONEY.  67 

genuine  love  had  long  ago  departed.  .Adam  Guy  was 
a  dictator  and  a  supervisor  in  his  household — not  a  lov 
ing  thought-taker  for  the  comfort,  contentment,  and 
happiness  of  its  inmates.  He  ministered  to  the  wants  of 
his  family  with  a  grudging,  and  not  a  liberal  hand,  and 
seemed  to  feel  that  every  gush  of  free  laughter  among 
the  children,  or  sign  of  pleasure  on  the  face  of  his  wife, 
was,  in  some  incomprehensible  way,  a  draught  upon  his 
guarded  coffers  —  and  must  be  answered  by  a  frown. 

The  intense  selfishness  of  Guy  reproduced  itself,  by 
a  natural  law,  in  his  children.  All  children  are  born 
with  selfish  inclinations  ;  but,  according  to  the  ruling 
desires  and  mental  habits  of  their  parents,  which  are 
reproduced  in  offspring,  these  inclinations  are  modified 
and  counter-balanced  in  ways  innumerable.  Where  a 
father  gives  himself  to  a  single  sordid  idea,  as  was  the 
case  with  Adam  Guy,  and  pursues  it  steadily,  day  by 
day,  carrying  not  only  disregard,  but  contempt  and  dis 
like  of  others  in  his  heart,  he  will  transmit  to  his  chil 
dren  similar  inclinations,  which,  if  not  weakened  by  op 
posite  things  from  the  mother,  or  repressed  by  discipline 
and  education,  must  render  them  selfish  in  the  extreme, 
and,  as  a  consequence,  antagonistic  to  each  other.  There 
cannot  be  love  among  such  children.  Their  world  is 
home,  and  they  will,  by  the  force  of  an  inherited  determ 
ination  of  soul,  incline  to  have  interests  separate  from  this 
world,  and  to  guard  these  interests  with  jealous  care ; 
nay,  as  selfishness  is  at  heart  a  robber,  and  they  have 
no  salutary  fears  of  law,  or  social  well-being  to  restrain 
them,  trespass  and  wrong  must  follow  ;  and  it  did  fol 
low  among  the  children  of  Adam  Guy.  They  were 
in  conflict  with  each  other  from  the  beginning. 


68  NOTHING    BUT   MONEY. 

Their  father  had  no  judgment  in  regard  to  family  rule, 
and  comprehended  only  the  law  of  force.  Of  love,  as 
a  power,  he  had  no  conception.  His  discipline,  therefore, 
was  oftener  hurtful  than  salutary.  They  did  not  seem 
to  love,  but  to  fear  him  ;  and,  as  a  consequence,  always 
felt  in  a  state  of  opposition  to  his  commands.  Thus  the 
temptation  to  disobey  was  always  before  them,  and  they 
felt  the  power  of  few  restraining  influences. 

Adam,  the  oldest,  inherited  his  father's  love  of  accu 
mulation  and  hoarding,  He  was  individualized  among 
the  children,  in  this  particular,  from  the  earliest  period 
in  which  character  began  to  manifest  itself.  If  he  re 
ceived  a  cent  or  a  fi 'penny  bit,  he  dropped  it  into  his 
money-box,  instead  of  spending  it  for  candies  or  a  toy. 
In  this,  he  showed  a  quality  after  his  father's  own 
heart,  and  received  more  paternal  commendations  for 
his  saving  propensities,  than  for  anything  else.  Thus 
love  of  money  was  stimulated,  instead  of  being  wisely 
repressed,  as  it  always  should  be,  where  it  shows  itself 
in  a  child.  The  right  use  of  money  —  the  sparing  to 
spend  wisely  —  the  love  of  accumulating  for  some  useful 
end  —  these  should  always  be  taught  and  cherished  ;  but 
the  miserly  spirit  never !  For  that  will  curse  the  pos 
sessor  through  life,  and  may  destroy  his  soul  eternally. 

John,  the  second  child,  had  less  of  his  father's  decided 
characteristics.  He  resembled  his  mother  in  person,  and 
mentally,  showed  many  similar  features  ;  but,  selfishness 
was  as  predominant  as  in  his  older  brother,  manifesting 
itself  not  in  avaricious  hoarding,  but  in  spending  all  that 
came  into  his  hands  for  his  own  gratification.  He  nev 
er  shared  with  his  brothers  or  sisters.  A  cake,  a  candy 


NOTHING    BUT    MONEY.  69 

or  an  apple,  would  be  eaten  and  enjoyed  by  him  in  sight 
of  their  longing  eyes,  and  not  a  crumb  or  a  slice  be  di 
vided  with  them  !  In  this,  he  was  unlike  his  mother. 
It  was  an  image  of  his  father's  selfish  soul,  the  trans 
mitted  activities  of  which  were  only  modified  by  new 
elements  of  character  derived  from  her.  In  him  was 
shadowed  forth  the  selfish  spendthrift. 

Lydia,  the  third  child,  was  bright,  active,  and  self- 
willed.  A  resolute  trespasser  on  the  rights  of  all,  and 
almost  always  in  sharp  conflict  with  the  rest,  she  had  no 
true  sensibility,  no  conscience  —  using  the  word,  as  AVC  of 
ten  apply  it  to  children  who  manifest  little  or  no  moral 
sense  —  who  are  not  truthful  nor  honest  —  no  native 
kindness  of  heart  —  no  love  of  anything  out  of  herself. 
Edwin,  Frances,  and  Philip,  the  three  youngest  chil 
dren  showed  leading  characteristics  quite  as  distinctly 
individual  as  their  oldest  brothers  and  sister.  These 
will  appear,  as  their  lives  are  developed  in  the  progress 
of  our  story. 

The  mother's  influence  over  her  children  was  not  of 
a  decided  character.  It  was  irregular,  indeterminate, 
and  impulsive.  She  had  lost  her  way  in  life  and  press 
ed  forward,  by  a  kind  of  necessity,  through  desolate 
and  unfamiliar  regions,  with  a  never  removed  pressure 
of  concern  upon  her  breast,  and  a  never  appeased  hun 
ger  in  her  heart.  The  masculine  strength  of  character 
on  which  she  was  to  lean  —  the  wise  intelligence  that 
was  to  be  her  guide  and  polar-star  —  these  she  had  not 
found.  Adam  had  proved,  instead  of  the  tender, 
loving  husband,  she  had  thought  to  gain,  a  hard  master, 
to  whose  service  she  was  irrevocably  bound.  A  man 


70  NOTHING    BUT    MONEY. 

the  light  ana  warmth  of  intellectual  sunshine.  He 
would  have  been  thought  to  her  love,  and  thus  she 
would  have  gained  through  him  a  higher  region  and  a 
clearer  vision.  But,  there  was  no  intellectual  or  moral 
wisdom  in  Adam  Guy,  to  which  her  soul  could  adjoin 
itself — nothing  that  she  could  love  and  rest  in,  with 
the  confiding  truth  of  her  nature  ;  and  so,  in  compan 
ionship  with  him,  she  was  astray,  and  in  the  dark,  press 
ing  onwards  by  the  force  of  necessity,  yet  groping  about, 
eagerly  and  impatiently  at  times,  and  again  moving  on 
in  pulseless  abandonment  to  what  seemed  a  dark  and 
cruel  fate. 

No  wonder  that  Lydia  did  not  prove  a  wise  mother, 
efficient  for  the  training  of  her  children;  no  wonder 
that  she  was  weak,  fretful,  irresolute,  and  without  sys 
tem  in  her  management.  Poor  health  came  to  increase 
her  inefficiency.  The  exhaustion  of  her  system,  through 
the  rapidly  succeeding  births  of  so  many  children,  added 
to  maternal  cares  and  household  duties,  so  enfeebled 
mind  and  body,  that  she  was  in  no  sense  competent  to 
fill  the  place  she  occupied  ;  and  yet,  no  one  could  hold 
it  but  her. 

As  in  the  beginning,  Adam's  will  was  the  general 
law  of  the  household,  and  in  his  prosperity  he  continued 
the  same  careful  supervision  of  expenditure,  treating  his 
wife  as  if  she  had  no  right  to  a  voice  in  anything  where 
his  darling  gold  was  concerned. 

Thus  it  was  with  them,  after  ten  years  of  married 
life.  Alas  for  the  golden  hopes,  which  had  made  all 
these  desolate  cycles  beautiful  in  the  future  of  Lydia,  on 
the  day  she  laid  her  maiden  hand  so  trustingly  in  that 
of  Adam  Guy,  and  called  him  husband ! 


CHAPTER  IX. 


HERE  had  been  a  second  change  in 
the  external  of  Guy's  life  in  the  world, 
up  to  the  period  of  which  we  are  now 
writing.  He  accumulated  steadily,  and 
pride  as  a  merchant  demanded  that  he 
should  live  in  better  style.  He  felt 
himself  becoming  of  more  consequence 
every  day  —  it  was  purse-proud  con 
sequence,  the  meanest  kind  of  basis  on 
which  to  build  self-estimation  —  and  it  was  needful, 
therefore,  to  assume  an  exterior,  in  some  degree  suited 
to  his  mercantile  status.  Rising  men,  whom  he  now 
met  in  the  walks  of  trade,  talked  of  houses,  furniture, 
crrriages,  and  country-seats,  in  a  way  that  dwarfed  his 
modest  house  into  meanness. 

A  change  followed.  From  the  retired  part  of  the 
city,  in  which  he  had  lived  for  seven  years,  he  removed 
to  a  more  fashionable  quarter,  and  took  a  house  at  seven 
hundred  dollars  a  year,  expending  over  two  thousand 
in  refurnishing.  It  went  something  against  the  grain, 
this  outlay  of  money  and  increased  expenses,  but  pride 
was  the  goad  that  pricked  him  onward. 

Let  us  take  some  three  years  subsequent  to  this  change, 
a  closer  view  of  Adam  Guy's  home.  Let  us  open  the 


72  NOTHING    BUT    MONEY. 

door  of  his  fine  residence,  and  go  in  and  sit  down  with 
him,  amid  his  wife  and  children. 

It  is  evening.  Through  the  whole  day,  Mr.  Guy's 
thoughts  had  flowed  in  the  one  direction  of  business  ; 

c? 

and  so  eager  had  been .  the  purpose  which  made  these 
thoughts  active,  that,  in  more  than  a  single  instance, 
they  struck  with  disturbing  force  against  hindrances  or 
impossibilities.  This  was  no  unusual  thing,  for  the  pur 
poses  and  thoughts  of  our  grasping  merchant  were  al 
ways  in  advance  of  the  orderly  results  of  business. 

Adam  Guy  came  home  in  a  dissatisfied  state  of  mind, 
consequent  on  several  causes.  There  had  been  a  decline 
in  the  sugar  market ;  two  or  three  large  cargoes  having 
arrived  at  New  York,  prices  had  receded  a  quarter  of  a 
cent.  Their  firm  held  a  thousand  barrels,  in  anticipa 
tion  of  a  rise.  Of  course  he  was  disturbed.  The  dif 
ference  of  a  quarter  of  a  cent  a  pound  on  a  thousand 
barrels  was  a  serious  matter  ;  but,  what  if  there  should 
be  a  further  and  heavier  decline  !  Another  cause  of  dis 
turbance  was  the  failure  of  a  merchant  in  Virginia, 
who  was  indebted  to  them  over  three  thousand  dollars. 
No  intelligence  had  been  received  as  to  the  character  of 
this  failure  ;  but  the  worst  is  iisually  feared  in  all  such 
cases.  Mr.  Guy  feared  the  worst.  Then  a  good  custom 
er,  to  whom  they  had  been  selling  for  years,  had  gone 
over  to  a  rival  house,  which  had  offered  eight,  instead 
of  the  usual  six  months'  credit.  But  we  will  enumerate 
no  farther.  To  a  man  whose  ruling  passion  was  the  love 
of  money,  and  who  thought  and  worked  only  to  that  end, 
these  were  enough  to  make  bitter  for  that  day  the  wine 
of  life.  And  so  Adam  Guy  came  home  at  its  clos«,  with 


NOTHING    BUT    MONEY.  73 

knit  brows,  shut  lips,  and  a  feeling  of  angry  impatience 
in  his  heart,  toward  everything  that  came  in  his  way. 
A  pale,  unhappy  looking  woman,  -sitting  amidst  a 
group  of  noisy  children,  lifted  her  eyes,  half  timidly, 
half  hopefully,  —  as  if  dreaming  of  a  smile  that  once- 
came  with  the  music  of  familiar  steps, — to  the  face  of 
Adam  Guy  as  he  entered.  His  knit  brows  and  tightly 
shut  lips,  threw  their  shadow  instantly  over  her  counte 
nance.  The  feeble  light,  which  had  flickered  there  for  a 
moment,  went  out.  There  was  no  cry  of  joy  among 
the  children  as  their  father  entered,  but  a  sudden  sup 
pression  of  voices.  He  did  not  speak,  but  moved  to  a 
large  easy  chair,  and  sitting  down,  dropped  his  chin  upon 
his  breast,  and  let  his  thoughts  go  back  to  his  gold  and 
his  merchandise.  In  a  little  while  the  children's  hushed 
tones  came  out  ao;ain,  and  filled  the  ears  of  their  father 

O  * 

with  a  disturbing  clamor. 

"  Silence  !  "  The  word  came  in  deep,  commanding 
utterance. 

Stillness  reigned  for  several  moments.  Then  low 
whisperings  began,  increasing  to  a  murmur,  that  soon 
rose  to  wild  discord  again.  Loudest  among  the  mingling 
voices,  were  those  of  Adam,  the  oldest  boy,  and  Lydia, 
the 'oldest  of  the  two  girls.  Adam  was  a  favorite  with 
his  father,  because,  of  all  the  children,  he  showed  hope 
ful  qualities.  Thrift  was  foreshadowed  in  his  regard  for 
money.  Toward  Lydia,  on  the  contrary,  he  always 
seemed  to  bear  ill-will.  Nothing  that  the  child  could  do, 
appeared  to 'meet  his  approbation.  Scarcely  an  evening 
passed,  that  she  was  not  ordered  to  leave  his  presence, 
and,  unless  she  conducted  herself  with  signal  circuin- 
4 


74  NOTHING    BUT    MONEY. 

spection,  the  same  thing  occurred  at  almost  every  meal. 
This  discrimination  against  Lydia  was  regarded  by 
Mrs.  Guy  as  unjust,  and  she  often  had  sharp  words 
with  her  husband  in  consequence,  and  not  unfrequently 
in  presence  of  the  children.  On  this  occasion,  as  the 
voice  of  Adam  and  Lydia  rose,  in  contention,  the  father 
said,  peremptorily  — 

"  Lydia  !     Go  out  of  the  room !  " 

"  And  Adam,  do  you  go  also  !"  spoke  out  the  mother. 

Adam  looked  toward  his  father,  and  hesitated  ;  Lydia 
moved  back  a  few  paces,  and  then  stood  still,  looking  at 
her  mother. 

"  Did  you  hear  me  ?  "  The  heavy  jar  of  Mr.  Guy's 
foot  gave  emphasis  to  his  word.  Lydia  started,  and 
receded  towards  the  door. 

"  Adam  !     Didn't  I  tell  you  to   leave  the  room  ?  " 

Mrs.  Guy  spoke  sharply.  The  boy  not  moving,  still 
looked  at  his  father,  and  seeing  no  command  in  his  eyes, 
remained  firm. 

"  Go,  sir,this  instant  !  "  The  stamp  of  Mrs.  Guy's 
small  foot  was  added  to  her  voice. 

"  Why  do  you  send  him  out  ?  "  Mr.  Guy  turned, 
frowningly,  upon  his  wife. 

"  Because  he's   equally  in  fault  with  Lydia.  " 

"  No,  I'm  not !     I  didn't  do  anything!     It's  all  her  ! 

She's  the  worst  girl  that  ever  lived !  "  Thus  Adam, 
reading  his  father's  eyes,  and  having  the  memory  of  past 
things  before  him,  came  out  in  his  own  defence. 

"  She's  a  great  deal  better  than  you  are,  sir  —  a  great 
deal  better  !  "  Poor  Mrs.  Guy's  self-control  and  pru 
dence  were  all  gone.  In  her  weakness,  standing  alone  as 


NOTHING    BUT    MONEY.  75 

she  did,  she  was  borne  down  by  the  pressure  of  indignant 
feelings.  Lydia  still  remained  near  the  door,  awaiting 
the  result  of  this  diversion  made  in  her  favor.  En 
couraged  by  her  mother's  defence,  she  flung  back  upon 
Adam  a  stinging  retort,  which  he  returned,  with  interest 
added.  A  movement  by  her  father,  that  Lydia  well 
understood,  caused  a  hasty  retreat  from  this  field  of 
unequal  combat ;  she  passed  through  the  door,  shutting 
it  after  her,  and  retired  to  a  region  of  greater  safety. 

"  It  isn't  just  to  make  her  the  scape-goat  of  every 
wrong  done  in  the  house,"  said  Mrs.  Guy,  speaking 
indignantly,  and  looking  with  angry  eyes  upon  her 
husband.  He  made  no  answer  beyond  a  contemptuous 
curl  of  the  lip,  and  letting  his  chin  droop  again,  looked 
away  from  the  present  disquietude  to  the  more  impor 
tant  matters  of  his  merchandise.  Adam  did  not  leave 
the  room, and  was  soon  engaged  in  wrangling  with  his 
brother  John,  who,  in  turn,  followed  ]iis  sister  into  tem 
porary  banishment. 

The  supper  scene  was  one  of  usual  discord.  The  un 
disciplined  children  were  restless,  noisy,  and  conten 
tious,  and  their  father  ill-natured  beyond  his  wont.  Lydia, 
John,  and  little  three-year-old  Frances,  were  sent  from 
the  table  and  to  bed.  Adam,  who  deserved  banishment 
quite  as  much  as  the  rest,  maintained  his  place,  though 
vigorously  assailed  by  his  mother,  and  ordered  by  her 
to  follow  his  brother  and  sister.  Only  his  father's  word, 
when  his  father  was  present  made  law  for  him. 

Later  in  the  evening,  after  all  the  children  were  in 
bed,  Mrs.  Guy  broke  in  upon  her  husband's  silent  medi 
tations  on  the  subject  of  loss  and  gain,  with  the  sen 
tence, 


76  NOTHING    BUT    MONEY. 

"  Have  you  twenty  dollars  in  your  pocket-book  ?  " 

"  No.  What  do  you  want  Avith  twenty  dollars  ?  " 
Mr.  Guy  started  from  his  reverie,  and  moved  his  person 
uneasily. 

"  I  have  use  for  it,"  was  coldly  answered. 

"  Didn't  I  give  you  ten  dollars  yesterday  ?  "  demand 
ed  Mr.  Guy. 

"  Yes ;  but  I  paid  the  milk-man's  bill." 

"  How  much  was  his  bill  ?  " 

"  Six  dollars." 

"  Well,  you  had  four  left  ?  " 

"  I  bought  sundry  little  matters." 

"  Sundry  little  matters  !  O  yes  !  Sundries  cost  more 
than  any  thing  else.  Sundries  eat  out  the  life  of  all 
prosperity.  I  would  discharge  a  clerk  who  made  an 
entry  of  sundries  in  one  of  my  account  books.  Sun 
dries  !  I  hate  the  word  ! " 

"  Well,  Mr.  Guy,"  Lydia  drew  herself  up  somewhat 
haughtily,  and  spoke  firmly  and  with  covert  sarcasm  in 
her  voice.  "  I  will  particularize.  There  were  four 
yards  of  gingham  for  aprons  —  seventy  cents ;  tape, 
sewing  cotton,  needles  and  pins  —  fifty  cents  ;  a  pair  of 
scissors  —  forty-five  cents  ;  four  yards  of  bonnet  ribbon 
—  a  dollar  and  a  half — " 

"  There,  there  !  That  will  do  !  "  broke  in  Mr.  Guy, 
impatiently.  "  I  thought  there'd  be  ribbons,  or  some 
sort  of  finery,  in  the  case.  It's  money,  money,  all  the 
while  —  a  regular  drain.  A  man  might  as  well  pour 
water  into  a  sieve." 

Mrs.  Guy  looked  down  at  the  sewing  on  which  she 
was  engaged,  and  made  no  answer.  Mr.  Guy  kept  on. 


NOTHING    BUT   MONEY.  77 

"  I  received  Yardly  &  Co.'s  bill  to-day." 

"  Well."     Mrs.  Guy  did  not  look  up. 

"  How  much  do  you  suppose  it  is  ?  " 

"  I've  not  the  least  idea." 

"  You  haven't  ?  Upon  my  word  !  If  you  haven't 
any  idea,  I  wonder  who  should  ?  Didn't  you  buy  the 
goods  ?" 

"  I  presume  so." 

"  Two  hundred  and  twenty-two  dollars  and  sixty-five 
cents,  madam !  A  bill,  as  long  as  my  arm  !  " 

And  Mr.  Guy  drew  forth  the  bill,  and  displayed  it 
before  the  eyes  of  his  wife,  saying,  as  he  did  so  — 

"  Look  at  that !  " 

Mrs.  Guy,  after  taking  it  from  his  hands,  went  over, 
item  by  item,  slowly  and  thoughtfully. 

"  It's  correct  as  to  the  articles  and  prices,"  she  said, 
in  a  quiet  tone. 

"  It  is  !  " 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  Then  I  call  you  an  extravagant  woman,  Lydia  ! 
A  bill  for  dry  goods  of  nearly  two  hundred  and  fifty 
dollars  in  less  than  six  months." 

"  There  are  six  children  and  myself  to  clothe,  Mr. 
Guy  ;  and  if  you  will  glance  at  the  bill  you  will  see 
twenty-six  dollars  charged  for  linen  that  was  made  up 
into  shirts  for  yourself.  Now,  it  strikes  me,  sir,  as 
being  a  very  moderate  account." 

"  Moderate  !  "  And  Mr.  Guy,  who  had  taken  the 
bill  from  his  wife's  hand,  tossed  it  from  him  in  angry 
contempt.  "  It's  nothing  but  money,  money,  mo«ey  — 
morning,  noon,  and  night !  I  can't  turn,  but  the  word 


78  NOTHING    BUT    MONEY. 

money  is  flung  into  my  ears !  I  dread  coming  home, 
half  of  my  time,  for  so  sure  as  I  cross  my  own  thresh 
old,  the  cry  of  money  is  heard.  The  horse  leech's 
daughter  were  a  companion  to  be " 

"  Adam,  take  care  !  "     Mrs.  Guy  turned  on  her  hus 
band  suddenly.     She  had  been  spurred  into  reaction  so  ' 
many   times  that  a   defiant   spirit  had   crept  into  her 
heart.     Love  went  out  long  and  long  ago. 

The  tone  and  look  of  his  wife  caused  Mr.  Guy  to 
pause,  and  hold  back  the  words  that  were  on  the  lip  of 
utterance. 

"  Take  care  of  what  ?  "  he  growled,  ill-naturedly. 

"  You  might  go  too  far,"  said  Ills  wife,  with  cold  res 
olution  in  her  voice. 

"  You  talk  in  riddles  ;  I  don't  understand  you  ;  .speak 
out  in  plain  language  when  you  address  me.''  Mr. 
Guy's  tones  were  contemptuous.  But  his  wife  uttered 
no  further  word.  She  had  him  at  bay,  and  that  was 
sufficient.  To  contend  was  no  part  of  her  nature, 
though  smarting  assault  often  roused  her  into  temporary 
reaction,  and  there  was.  at  times,  a  quality  in  her  reac 
tion  which  had  so  threatening  a  look  to  Mr.  Guy  that 
he  held  himself  back  from  a  final  encounter.  It  was  so 
in  the  present  case. 

Turning  himself  partly  away  from  his  wife,  and  drop 
ping  his  chin  again  upon  his  bosom,  Mr.  Guy  went 
back  to  his  gold  and  his  merchandise.  A  silence  of 
over  ten  minutes  followed,  when  a  servant  opened  the 
door  of  the  room  in  which  they  were  sitting.  Mrs. 
Guy  looked  up,  and  seeing  who  it  was,  said  — 

"  Very  well,  Jane  ;  I'll  see  you  in  a  moment." 


NOTHING    BUT    MONEY.  79 

The  girl,  who  was  dressed  to  go  out,  retired. 

"  Adam,  I  want  ten  dollars  for  Jane,"  said  Mrs. 
Guy. 

"  Ten  dollars  !  You  don't  owe  the  girl  so  much  as 
that?" 

"  Yes  ;  and  I  promised  her  that  she  should  have  it  to 
night." 

~ 

Mr.  Guy  drove  his  hand  into  his  pocket,  and  taking 
out  a  purse,  selected  therefrom  a  ten  dollar  bill. 

"  There  ! "  he  said,  thrusting  it  toward  his  wife. 
"  And  I  wish  you'd  have  some  regard  to  my  demands. 
I've  said,  a  hundred  times,  that  I  wanted  the  girls 
paid  every  week.  Don't  let  this  occur  again." 

"  Give  me  a  certain  reasonable  amount  regularly,  and 
I'll  see  that  everything  is  paid  as  I  go  along,"  returned 
Mrs.  Guy. 

"What  do  you  call  a  reasonable  amount?  " 

"  A  sum  equal  to  our  household  expenses." 

"  That's  very  indefinite,"  said  Mr.  Guy. 

"  You  know  about  what  it  costs  us  in  the  year." 

"  I  know  that  it  costs  us  a  great  deal  more  than  it 
should." 

"  Perhaps  it  does  ;  but  that's  neither  here  nor  there. 
Take  our  expenses  for  the  last  year,  and  divide  the 
sum  by  fifty-two.  This  will  give  you  the  amount  of 
our  weekly  expenses.  Place  that  in  my  hands  regular 
ly,  and  I'll  see  that  you  are  not  annoyed  by  these  con 
stant  demands  for  money." 

Mr.  Guy  did  not  respond.  The  proposition  had 
often  been  made  before,  but  he  had  a  fancy  that  his 
wife  would,  under  this  arrangement,  spend  with  a  more 


80  NOTHING    BUT    MONEY. 

liberal  hand,  and  run  up  heavy  dry  goods'  bills  into  the 
bargain.  He  loved  his  money  too  well  to  trust  it  with 
her  in  any  sums  beyond  tens  or  twenties  ;  too  well  to  let 
it  pass  from  his  hands  without  grave  intimations  of  its 
value.  With  the  instinct  of  his  avaricious  nature,  he 
saw  that  if  he  set  apart  a  certain  sum  weekly,  and  hand 
ed  it  to  his  wife,  as  a  thing  of  course,  she  would  hold 
on  to  it  with  less  tenacity  than  if  every  renewal  of  her 
purse  were  attended  by  remonstrances,  interrogatories, 
and  lectures  on  waste  and  extravagance.  "  Women 
don't  know  the  value  of  money,"  was  one  of  his  favorite 
self-justifications  ;  and  be  acted  up  to  this  settlement  in 
all  his  dealings  with  his  wife. 

"  I  want  ten  dollars  more,"  said  Mrs.  Guy,  seeing 
that  her  husband  made  no  response  to  her  proposition. 
Her  voice  was  firm,  and  just  a  little  sharp  with  impa 
tience. 

Mr.  Guy  dashed  his  hand  into  his  pocket  again. 

"  There  !  "  An  angry  frown  darkened  his  face  as  he 
handed  Lydia  another  bank  bill.  "  It's  nothing  but 
money  !  "  he  muttered,  almost  savagely,  as  he  arose  to 
his  feet,  and  commenced  stalking  about  the  room.  His 
wife  retired  silently. 

The  scene  we  have  presented  is  a  simple  illustration 
of  the  home-life  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Guy.  Love,  as  we 
have  said,  had  died  out  long  ago,  and  in  its  place  was 
hard  antagonism.  Truly  had  Guy  expressed  the 
thought  and  interest  by  which  they  were  bounded,  when 
he  said  —  "  It's  nothing  but  money  !  "  Beyond  or 
above  this  the  wings  of  his  spirit  had  not  power  to  lift 
him  ;  and  fettered  by  his  life  —  bound  to  a  sordid  earth- 


NOTHING   BUT   MONEY.  81 

clod  —  Lydia  could  not  get  above  the  limitations  of  a 
sphere  to  which  a  base  marriage  had  doomed  her.  He 
was  ever  holding  back  his  yellow  dross  ;  she,  from  the 
necessities  of  her  position,  ever  grasping  after  it.  And 
so,  the  finer  qualities  of  her  nature  —  all  her  tastes  — 
all  her  aspirings  after  higher  things  —  all  her  loves  and 
humanities  —  were  stifled,  overlaid,  or  extinguished. 

'  7  O 

The  promise  of  her  young,  sweet  life,  was  rendered 
fruitless.  Beauty  had  turned  to  ashes. 

So  we  find  it  with  Adam  Guy  and  his  wife  after  the 
lapse  of  ten  years.  How  few  of  those  who  envied  their 
wealth  and  style  of  living,  dreamed  of  all  the  hollow 
mockery  by  which  they  were  surrounded.  They  had 
money,  but  at  what  a  price  ! 


CHAPTER    X. 


EN  years  have  laid  their  burdens  and 
their  lessons  on  the  hearts  of  Doctor 
Hofland  and  his  wife,  as  well.  They 
have  not  found  it  all  meadow-path  and 
sunshine.  Rough  places  have  woun 
ded  their  feet,  and  storms  have  found 
them  far  distant  from  sheltering  rock 
or  hiding  covert.  But,  in  all  trial, 
disappointment,  anxiety,  and  affliction 
their  hearts  have  drawn  nearer  and  nearer  together, 
gaining,  at  each  approach,  more  unity  of  pulsation. 

A  defect  in  the  character  of  Doctor  Hofland  was 
lack  of  worldly  prudence.  The  absence  of  all  sordid 
qualities  left  him  in  danger  of  setting  too  light  a  value 
on  money  ;  and  the  absorption  of  thought  in  his  profes 
sion,  kept  his  mind  away  from  a  due  consideration  of 
life's  economies,  without  which  it  is  almost  impossible 
for  a  man,  solely  dependent  on  his  own  efforts,  to  keep 
himself  free  from  embarrassment.  He  was  too  apt  to 
let  want,  and  not  means,  rule  in  the  matter  of  expen 
diture.  The  tastes  of  such  a  man  are  costly  things, 
and,  if  gratified,  absorb  money  rapidly. 

We   find  the  doctor  and  his  wife  living  in  a  pleasant 
house  on  Charles  street,  among  merchants,  bankers,  and 


NOTHING    BUT    MONEY.  83 

men  of  property,  and  in  a  style  indicative  of  profession 
al  thrift.  His  practice  has  largely  increased,  —  for,  in 
addition  to  his  acknowledged  skill,  he  has  personal  qual 
ities  that  render  him  popular.  Pass  we  into  his  home. 
Let  us  contrast  the  parlors  with  those  of  Adam  Guy, 
who  is  worth  at  least  forty  thousand  dollars  —  the  doc 
tor's  account  with  the  world,  we  are  sorry  to  say,  stands 
seriously  against  him.  In  the  merchant's  parlors,  we 
find  lace  and  damask  curtains,  Brussels  carpet,  rich 
mantel  glasses,  pier-tables,  and  maroon  velvet  furniture. 
These,  looking  cold,  stiff,  and  stately,  suggest  only  a 
money  value.  You  think  of  what  they  cost  —  not  of 
their  use  in  the  household.  No  pictures  smile  down  up 
on  you  from  the  walls  ;  no  urn  or  vase,  no  bronze  or 
Parian  statut-tte,  gives  grace,  tenderness,  or  human  beau 
ty.  You  might  as  well  be  in  a  cabinet  maker's  show 
room,  for  all  the  sentiment  of  home  that  is  inspired. 
You  stand  now  in  two  smaller  rooms,  communicating 

V  O 

by  folding  doors,  —  and  a  home-feeling  is  penetrating 
your  heart.  These  are  the  parlors  of  our  friend,  the 
doctor.  Instead  of  damask  and  lace  curtains,  we  find 
simple  Venitian,  window-blinds.  There  are  no  glasses 
in  the  piers,  and  only  a  small  one  on  the  mantel  in  the 
front  parlor ;  a  hair  cloth  sofa  stands  in  one  room,  and 
a  piano  in  the  other  ;  the  carpets  are  ingrain,  and  the 
chairs  cane-seat.  But,  there  are  many  things  beyond 
these,  and  your  eyes  go  to  them  instinctively.  Here 
hangs  a  landscape,  that  gives  you  a  dream  of  summer 
never  to  be  forgotten,  and  there  a  home  scene  of  exqui 
site  tenderness.  You  smile  now  at  the  humor  of  a  pic 
ture  that  hits  off  a  foible  of  character,  and  take  the  les- 


84  NOTHING    BUT    MONEY. 

son  to  yourself  —  or,  more  likely,  apply  it  to  another. 
From  wall  to  wall  you  pass,  lingering  before  painting 
and  engraving,  and  drinking  in  beauty  and  sentiment. 
Then  you  turn  to  examine  a  small  bronze  figure  of  Ca- 
nova's  Dancing  Girl,  which  stands  on  the  mantel,  and  go 
from  this  to  an  exquisite  Hebe.  On  the  two  centre- 
tables,  you  find  rare  books,  rich  in  art-treasure  —  the 
wealth  of  European  galleries. 

But  these  are  not  obtainable  by  any  small  outlay  of 
money.  A  piece  of  canvas,  two  feet  square,  may  cost 
more  than  a  gilded  mirror ;  and  the  wall  adornments  of 
two  small  parlors,  like  those  of  Doctor  Hofland,  absorb 
a  larger  sum  than  all  the  damask,  rose-wood,  and  French 
plate  in  the  drawing-rooms  of  a  merchant-prince.  Art 
is  expensive.  It  was  actually  so  in  the  present  case. 
These  pictures,  books,  statuettes,  and  other  articles  of 
taste,  cost  more  than  all  the  handsome  furniture  in 
Adam  Guy's  parlors.  You  look  grave  at  this  and  will 
look  graver  still,  when  we  tell  you  that  our  pleasant 
friends,  Dr.  Hofland  and  his  wife,  are  enjoying  these 
rare  and  costly  things  at  the  price  of  debt !  Trying  to 
enjoy  them,  it  were  better  said,  —  for,  with  such  a 
drawback,  minds  like  theirs  can  have  no  real  enjoyment. 

Do  not  blame  them  too  severely,  —  for,  at  heart,  they 
are  not  dishonest.  Of  set  purpose,  they  would  wrong 
none.  Good  deeds  and  kindness  have  marked  each  step 
of  their  way  through  life,  These  costly  things  which 
you  see,  have  been  gathered,  one  at  a  time,  all  through 
the  ten  years  that  have  elapsed  since  you  first  looked  in 
upon  them.  The  sum  of  their  price  has  never  been 
thought  of;  if  you  were  to  ask  their  aggregate  money- 


NOTHING    BUT    MONET.  85 

value,  they  would  not  answer  correctly,  within  hundreds 
of  dollars.  Debt  has  come  by  gradual  advances,  year 
after  year,  as  expenditure  steadily  exceeded  income  ;  and 
now,  when  the  close  calculating  merchant  is  worth  forty 
thousand  dollars,  the  physician  is  "  worse  than  nothing," 
by  at  least  three  thousand. 

As  we  gave  you  a  near  view  of  the  home-life  of 
Adam  Guy,  after  the  lapse  of  ten  years,  we  will  now  let 
you  see  how  it  is  with  Doctor  Hofland  and  his  wife. 
They  have  had  five  children.  Of  these,  two  have  pass 
ed  through  the  gate  of  death  into  heaven.  Their  old 
est,  a  daughter,  named  Lena,  from  her  mother,  —  the 
second,  a  boy,  —  and  their  youngest,  a  baby-girl,  ten 
months  old,  are  with  them  still. 

We  take  the  same  evening,  on  which  we  opened  for 
you  the  door  of  Adam  Guy's  dwelling,  and  will  let  you 
pass  into  the  Doctor's  home. 

There  sits  Mrs.  Hofland,  with  her  youngest  born  on 
her  lap.  She  has  a  book  in  her  hand,  and  is  reading 
aloud  to  her  two  oldest  children,  who  have  drawn  their 
little  chairs  close  to  hers,  and  gaze  earnestly  into,  her 
face,  listening. 

Time  has  dealt  gently  with  Mrs.  Hofland.  Her 
clear  dark  eyes  are  as  bright  as  when  you  first  looked 
into  them, —  nay,  brighter,  and  with  a  depth  of  feeling 
and  consciousness  not  seen  before.  The  fine  oval  of 
her  face  has  not  changed  its  curve  ;  the  play  of  feeling 
is  as  rapid  and  rippling ;  her  voice  tenderer,  deeper, 
and  more  musical.  You  do  not  think,  as  you  stand 
looking  upon  her  countenance,  over  which  thought  is 
playing,  like  sunbeams  and  shadows  that  succeed  each 


86  NOTHING    BUT    MONEY. 

other  rapidly  on  the  bosom  of  a  meadow,  that  sorrow 
has  been  more  than  once  her  tearful  guest. 

She  stops  reading,  and  listens.  All  the  children, 
even  baby  in  the  lap,  prick  up  their  ears,  and  look  ex 
pectancy. 

"  It's  father  !  "  Little  Lena  is  on  her  feet  in  an  in 
stant,  and  moving  toward  the  door,  with  her  brother 
Frank  close  by  her  side.  Baby  Annie's  tiny  hands  are 
fluttering.  In  the  hall,  Lena  and  Frank  spring  upon 
their  father,  shouting,  and  hinder  the  removal  of  his 
great  coat.  But,  it  is  soon  laid  aside  amid  these  loving 
hindrances,  and  the  doctor  advances  to  the  sitting-room, 
with  an  arm  around  his  boy  and  girl,  whose  kisses  are 
yet  warm  upon  his  lips.  Baby's  and  mother's  lips  are 
laid  on  his  as  one,  making  love's  circle  complete,  and 
sending  full  currents  of  joy  to  his  heart. 

"  A  gentleman  is  waiting  for  you  in  the  office,"  said 
Mrs.  Hofland,  after  the  sweet  confusion  attendant  on 
his  return  home  had  subsided. 

"Who?" 

"  He  did  not  give  his  name.  Henry  said  that  he 
was  here  before  to-day,  and  asked  when  you  would  be 
home." 

Doctor  Hofland,  expecting  to  see  a  patient,  or  receive 
a  professional  call,  went  down  to  his  office,  which  was 
in  the  basement. 

"  Doctor  Hofland,  I  believe,"  said  the  man,  rising. 

There  was  something  in  his  appearance,  and  the  tone 
in  which  he  spoke,  that  sent  a  signal  of  alarm  to  the 
doctor's  heart.  A  shadow,  as  of  approaching  evil",  fell 
suddenly  around  him. 


NOTHING    BUT   MONEY.  87 

"  My  name,  sir."     He  hardly  knew  his  own  voice. 

The  man's  eyes  dropped  to  the  floor,  and  he  bent  his 
head  a  little  forward,  as  he  thrust  his  hand  into  his 
pocket,  and  drew  forth  a  small  bundle  of  papers.  From 
this  he  selected  a  folded  document,  some  nine  inches 
long,  by  three  wide,  and  said,  coldly,  as  he  opened  it-: 

"  I  have  a  warrant  for  you,  sir." 

"  A  warrant !  "  The  blood  flowed  back  upon  the 
heart  of  Doctor  Hofland. 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  On  what  account  ?  " 

"  It  is  issued  at  the  demand  of  Warfield." 

"  Of  Henry  Warfield  !  " 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  Oh,  I'll  see  him,  and  make  it  all  right  !  It's  a 
shame  for  him  to  take  a  step  like  this.  He  knows  I'll 
pay  him.'' 

u  You  must  go  with  me  to  the  magistrate's,  and  give 
bail  for  the  debt,"  said  the  officer,  firmly. 

The  face  of  Doctor  Hofland  grew  paler.  His  sensi 
tive  pride,  as  well  as  his  fears,  were  assailed.  He  ar 
rested  for  debt,  and  required  to  give  bail,  or !  Ah, 

he  knew  too  well  what  was  beyond  the  bail-requirement, 
if  not  met !  The  law  of  imprisonment  for  debt  was  on 
the  statute-book  of  the  state,  and  in  active  operation, 
as  the  full  debtor's  apartment  in  the  county  jail  too 
soberly  testified.  And  creditors,  at  that  time,  often 
made  short  work  with  their  debtors  by  forcing  them  to 
give  security  for  the  payment  of  their  claims,  in  sight, 
so  to  speak,  of  the  jail  door.  This  was  the  process  now 
taken  by  one  of  the  doctor's  creditors,  who  had  grown 
impatient  and  ill-natured. 


88  NOTHING   BUT    MONEY. 

'•  But  it's  night, "'answered  Doctor  Hofland.  "  How 
am  I  to  get  bail  at  this  late  hour  ?  The  proceeding  is 
an  outrage  !  Who  issued  this  warrant  ?" 

O 

"  Mr.  Ashmun." 

"  He  knows  me  very  well.  Say  to  him  that  I  will 
appear  and  give  security  to-morrow  morning." 

"  I'm  sorry,  doctor,  but  I  can't  meet  your  wishes. 
My  warrant  requires  that  I  produce  your  body  to-day. 
I've  been  here  twice  before.  But  you  can  get  bail 
easily  enough.  The  debt  is  only  ninety-three  dollars. 
Come,  if  you  please." 

There  was  no  escape.  The  hand  of  the  law  was  on 
him,  and  he  must  stand  up,  as  other  men  had  to  stand 
up,  to  its  full  requirement. 

"I  am  called  out  imperatively,"  he  said,  pushing 
open  a  little  way  the  door  of  the  apartment  where  he 
had  left  his  children  a  few  minutes  before.  Don't  wait 
tea  for  me,  as  I  may  be  detained  for  some  time/' 

Then  the  door  shut,  and  Lena  heard  her  husband's 
feet  go  quickly  down  the  stairway  that  led  to  his  office. 
The  tone  of  voice  left  echoing  in  her  memory  haunted 
her  in  a  strange  way,  and  troubled  her  feelings.  It 
had  something  in  it  which  she  did  not  understand; 
something  that  left  the  impression  of  a  disturbed  mind 
—  disturbed  from  within,  not  from  without  —  for  itself, 
and  not  for  the  peril  or  extremity  of  another. 

An  hour  passed,  and  the  doctor  did  not  come  back. 
From  the  moment  of  his  departure,  his  wife  had  felt  the 
pressure  of  an  unusual  concern,  which  continued  to 
increase  until  vague  fears  crowded  into  her  heart.  After 
her  children  were  in  bed,  her  mind  fell  into  such  an  anx- 


NOTHING    BUT   MONEY.  89 

ious  state,  that  she  was  unable  to  read  or  sew,  and 
wandered  about,  from  room  to  room,  up  stairs  and  down, 
like  a  perturbed  spirit.  Eight,  nine  o'clock  came,  and 
the  doctor  had  not  yet  returned.  But,  now,  a  note  from 
him,  so  hastily  written  that  she  could  with  difficulty 
make  out  the  words,  was  placed  in  her  hands.  It 
read  — 

"  DEAR  LENA  :  I  shall,  I  fear,  be  detained  all  night. 
Don't  expect  me,  if  I  am  not  home  by  ten  o'clock. 
Give  the  children,  for  me,  their  go-to-bed  kiss. 

Lovingly, 

E.  H." 

"  Not  home  to-night !  Strange !  What  can  it 
mean  ?  " 

Mrs.  Hofland  read  the  note  a  second  time.  It's  tenor 
puzzled  her.  Why  did  he  not  say  where  he  was,  or 
hint  at  the  real  cause  of  his  absence  ?  This  was  not 
like  her  husband.  There  was  something  wrong!  What 
could  it  be  ? 

And  in  doubt,  questionings,  anxiety,  and  vague  fear, 
Mrs.  Hofland  passed  an  almost  sleepless  night,  the  first 
in  which  her  husband  had  been  absent  from  her  since  the 
day  of  their  man-age. 


CHAPTER  XL 

Q.'SSfflW'  'I  W&    HE  m°°dy  SilenCe  that  followed  the 

fillx-OTtil  HAS  scene  of  strife  about  money  between 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Guy,  had  been  prolong 
ed  to  nearly  an  hour,  when  the  street 
door  bell  was  heard  to  ring  loudly. 

"Who  is  it?"  asked  Mr.  Guy,  as 
a  servant  entered  the  room  where  they 
were  sitting. 

"  A  man  wants  to  see  you,  sir." 
"  What's  his  business  ?  " 
"  He  did  not  say." 

Adam  Guy,  with  no  pleasing  aspect  of  countenance, 
for  the  interruption  came  upon  a  scheme  of  profit  half 
thought  out,  went  into  the  hall,  where  he  found  an 
ill-looking  stranger  standing  near  the  vestibule. 

"  Well,  sir  ?  "  Adam  Guy  had  already  learned  the 
purse-proud  art  of  being  rude  to  persons  whom  men  of 
his  class  consider  as  of  little  account  in  the  world,  except 
as  hewers  of  wood  and  drawers  of  water,  and  so  spoke 
roughly  to  the  man.  Without  answering,  the  visitor 
handed  him  a  letter. 

"  What's  this  ?  "     Guy  broke  the  seal  and  read  — - 


"  DEAR  SIR — I  am,  unfortunately,  in  the  hands  of 
an  officer,  arrested  for  a  debt  of  ninety-three  dollars,  and 


NOTHING    BUT    MONEY.  91 

will  go  to  prison  to-night  unless  I  get  bail.  Will  you 
come  to  my  relief,  and  save  me  from  this  disgrace,  and 
my  family  from  mortification  and  distress  ?  The  bearer 
will  accompany  you  to  the  office  where  I  am  held.  I 
am  grieved  to  trouble  you,  but  the  extremity  admits  of 
no  alternative. 

"  Truly 

EDWARD  HOFLAND." 

Adam  Guy  read  the  letter  hastily,  and  then  folding 
it  in  a  resolute  manner  thrust  it  back  upon  the  man,  say 
ing  coldly  — 

"  I  know  nothing  about  it." 

"  Then  you  will  not  go  his  bail  ?  " 

"  No,  sir  !  That's  a  thing  I  never  do.  Good  even 
ing."  And  the  merchant  turned  from  the  messeno-er. 

o  o       * 

who  went  muttering  from  the  house. 

"  Who  was  it  ?  "  asked  Mrs.  Guy,  as  her  husband 
returned  ;  but  he  made  no  answer.  For  nearly  ten 
minutes  he  sat  with  his  chin  on  his  breast  —  his  usual 
position  during  the  silent  evenings  spent  at  home  —  then, 
with  a  curl  of  the  lip,  and  a  veiled  pleasure  in  his  tones, 
he  said  — 

"  The  Doctor  has  reached  the  end  of  his  rope  at 
last." 

"Who?     What  Doctor?" 

"  Doctor  Hofland." 

"  What  about  him,  Adam  ?  " 

"  He's  in  the  hands  of  a  constable,  and  likely  to  get 
some  experience  in  jail  life." 

"  What !  Oh,  Adam  !  A  painful  expression  con 
tracted  the  face  of  Mrs.  Guy. 


92  NOTHING    BUT    MONEY. 

It's  nothing  more  than  Iv'e  expected.  He  and  his 
wife  began  in  extravagance  and  wasteful  self-indulgence, 
and  have  kept  on  the  same  way  steadily.  No  other 
result  could  follow.  The  Doctor  has  made  his  bed, 
now  let  him  lie  in  it.  It  will  do  him  good.  Men  of 
his  class  never  grow  wise  until  they  get  a  few  hard 
knocks.  A  short  term  on  the  other  side  of  Jones's 
Falls  will  make  him  a  wiser  and  a  better  man." 

"  Oh,  Adam  !  How  can  you  talk  so  coldly  !  "  said 
Mrs.  Guy,  showing  still  greater  distress  of  mind. 
"  Pray  go  to  his  rescue  !  Don't  let  an  old  friend  be 
dealt  with  so  cruelly.  What  is  the  debt  ?  " 

"  I  made  a  vow  ten  years  ago,  and  by  my  life  I'll 
keep  it !  "  was  the  emphatic  answer ;  "  a  vow  never  to 
endorse  or  be  security  for  any  mam  If  my  own  brother 
were  in  Doctor  Hofland's  place,  I'd  say  as  I  do  now  — 
'  He's  made  his  bed,  let  him  lie  in  it ! '  Men  like  him 
waste  their  substance,  and  run  in  debt ;  and  then,  debt 
penalties  lash  them  into  something  like  prudence  and 
honesty.  I  don't  pity  him  in  the  least." 

"  Oh,  Adam  !  Adam  !  Think  of  his  wife  and  chil 
dren  !  "  Mrs.  Guy  wrung  her  hands,  as  she  looked  at 
her  husband  through  pleading  eyes. 

"  His  wife  is  as  much  to  blame  as  himself.  Lena 
was  idle  and  extravagant  from  the  beginning,"  was  the 
hard  reply.  "  Let  her  feel  some  of  the  consequences 
of  her  own  folly ;  it  will  make  her  a  better  woman,  I 
trust.  No,  no ;  the  causes  of  this  trouble  are  with 
themselves,  and  with  themselves  must  rest  the  conse 
quences.  I  shall  not  help  them,  if  the  Doctor,  rots  in 
jail." 


NOTHING    BUT    MONEY.  93 

A  shudder  ran  through  the  frame  of  Mrs.  Guy,  and 
she  threw  up  her  hands  in  half  instinctive  horror,  as  if 
a  monster  were  before  her. 

"  You  needn't  whimper  to  me,  Madam,  nor  put  on 
any  of  your  distressed  looks,''  said  Adam  Guy,  coldly 
and  cruelly,  as  his  wife  essayed  once  more  to  reach  him. 
"  The  Doctor's  path  and  mine  diverged  years  ago,  and 
will  never  run  side  by  side,  nor  cross  again.  I  want 
nothing  from  him,  and  he  will  get  nothing  from  me.  If 
he  bids  for  the  jail  or  the  almshouse,  in  heaven's  name 
let  him  take  his  election  ;  I  wont  put  a  feather  in  his 
way." 

Mrs.  Guy,  seeing  that  no  impression  could  be  made 
on  her  husband,  and  pained  beyond  endurance  by  the 
thought  of  Lena's  distress  —  old,  tender  feelings  were 
rushing  back  upon  her  heart  for  Lena,  between  whom 
and  herself  circumstances,  not  alienations,  had  inter 
posed  barriers  difficult  to  pass  —  left  the  room  and  went 
to  her  chamber.  All  her  sympathies  were  quickened 
into  life  —  sympathies,  which  contact  with  sordidness, 
narrow  self-seeking,  and  hard  fighting  with  an  enelny 
that  always  seemed  on  the  eve  of  victory,  had  only 
palsied,  not  destroyed  —  and  she  was  moved  by  an  irre 
pressible  desire  to  go  to  her  friend,  and  offer  comforting 
words,  even  if  she  had  no  power  to  give  aid  in  her  ex 
tremity.  Hope  in  her  husband  there  was  none.  She 
knew  that  what  he  had  said  he  would  not  gainsay.  In 
all  his  denunciations  of  Doctor  Hofland,  there  lay,  only 
half  concealed  in 'his  tones,  a  cruel  pleasure. 

"  Poor  Lena  !  poor  Lena  !  "  she  sobbed,  as  her  pity 
ing  heart  ran  over  through  her  eyes. 


94  NOTHING   BUT    MONEY. 

"If  I  had  power  to  aid  you,  Heaven  knows  how 
speedily  help  would  come." 

Then,  after  weeping  for  awhile,  she  said  resolutely, 

"  I  must  go  to  Lena  in  her  dreadful  extremity.  I 
must  know  all  about  this  trouble  in  which  the  Doctor  is 
involved.  If  I  cannot  help  them  with  money,  I  may 
help  by  sympathy  or  suggestion." 

Hastily  putting  on  her  bonnet  and  cloak,  Mrs.  Guy 
left  the  chamber,  and  was  coming  lightly  down  stairs, 
when  she  met  her  husband,  through  whose  mind  had 
passed  a  suspicion  of  just  this  course  on  the  part  of  his 

Wife.  •«  -,«    ;: 

"  Where  are  you  going  ?  "  he  asked,  knitting  his 
brows. 

"  Out  for  a  little  while,"  Lydia  answered. 

"  Where  ?  " 

"  No  matter.     I  shall  not  be  gone  long." 

"  Going  out,  and  alone,  at  this  time  of  night !  I 
think  it  does  matter.  Answer  plainly,  can't  you  ?  A 
husband  has  some  right  to  question  as  to  where  his 
wife  goes  at  an  hour  like  this." 

"I  am  going  to  see  my  friend  Lena,  if  you  must 
know."  Mrs.  Guy  looked  unflinchingly  at  her  hus 
band,  and  spoke  like  a  woman  in  earnest. 

"  And  I  say  you  are  not." 

"  Adam  Guy  !  " 

"  Lydia  Guy  !  " 

Defiantly  they  gazed  in  each  other's  faces  for  several 
moments. 

"  You  must  not  go,  Lydia," 

"Why?" 


NOTHING    BUT    MONEY.  95 

"  Let  them  alone.  They  have  only  themselves  to 
blame.  Lena  is  as  criminal  as  her  husband,  and  as  de 
serving  of  a  just  punishment." 

"  Criminal,  Adam  ?  " 

"  Yes,  criminal  !  Havn't  they  been  living  on  other 
people's  means,  and  that  without  consent?  Does  a 
thief  do  more  ?  The  law  has  laid  its  hard  grip  on  them, 
and  I  say  it  is  well.  The  law  is  no  respecter  of  persons  ; 
they  who  violate  it  must  take  the  penalty.  I  would  not 
interpose  a  feather  to  hinder  its  free  course :  no,  not  a 
feather,  in  any  case.  Not  in  the  case  of  my  best  friend, 
even.  Let  the  trespasser  be  punished  ;  it  is  our  only 
social  sal'ety.  Let  Doctor  Hofland  be  punished,  I  say. 
If  he  will  wrong  other  people,  let  him  feel  the  lash. 
Go  back  to  your  room,  and  don't  play  the  weak  fool ; 
the  matter  is  no  concern  of  yours." 

"  It  does  concern  me,  Adam,  that  a  dear  friend  is  in 
trouble,  and,  right  or  wrong,  I  must  go  to  Lena,"  an 
swered  Mrs.  Guy. 

'*  You  shall  not  go  !  There  !  I  have  said  it  again, 
and  by  all  that  is  sacred  I  will  keep  my  word  !  "  and 
striding  to  the  door,  Guy  locked  it,  and  drew  out  the 
key.  "  Now,  Madam  !  "  There  was  a  hard,  cruel  look 
in  his  eyes,  as  he  turned  to  Lydia. 

Poor  Avoman  !  She  was  not  strong  enough  for  open 
contention  with  a  nature  like  this  man's.  She  would 
have  gone  against  his  will,  and  braved  the  after  conse 
quences,  if  she  could  have  been  free  of  present  obstruc 
tion  ;  but,  face  to  face  with  his  iron  resolution,  she  found 
herself  like  a  reed  in  the  wind. 

"Cruel  of  heart!  "  Lydia  moaned  out  the  words  in 


96  NOTHING   BUT    MONEY. 

a  bitter  wail,  as,  covering  her  face  with  her  hands,  she 
sunk  upon  the  stairs. 

Adam  walked  two  or  three  times  the  full  length  of 
the  hall,  in  unusual  disturbance  of  manner ;  then  stop 
ping  before  his  wife,  he  said,  "  Lydia  !  " 

But  she  gave  no  response. 

"  Lydia  !     Do  you  hear  me  ?  " 

She  crouched  on  the  stairs,  her  face  hidden  in  her 
hands,  still  and  statue-like. 

"  Lydia,  I  say  !  "  He  stamped  his  foot  in  out-leaping 
passion ;  but  she  stirred  not,  spoke  not.  A  shade  of 
concern  swept  over  his  face,  as  he  stood  looking  at.  her 
motionless  figure. 

"  Come,  come  child  !  this  is  weak  folly  — get  up  !  " 
He  had  stepped  across  the  hall,  and  laid  a  hand  upon 
her  arm.  A  great  change  was  apparent  in  his  voice  ; 
it  was  soft  with  persuasion.  But  there  came  no  re 
sponse.  The  arm  was  nerveless,  and  offered  no  resist- 
tance. 

"  Lydia  !  "  Something  like  alarm  was  now  manifest. 
He  lifted  her  face  ;  it  was  white  !  and  the  dark  fringe 
of  her  lashes  lay  as  still  as  if  penciled  above  her 
cheeks. 

"  Good  heavens  !  -  Lydia  !  Child  !  Lydia  !  What 
ails  you  ?  Are  you  sick  ?  " 

As  he  tried  to  raise  her  up,  the  nerveless  form  slid 
from  his  arms,  and  he  caught  it  back  with  an  eager 
grasp,  just  preventing  its  heavy  fall  upon  the  passage 
floor.  Lifting  the  fragile  body  — how  light  it  was  !  — 
he  bore  it  to  a  chamber  above.  Cold  water  dashed  in 
the  face ;  friction  of  the  hands,  feet  and  limbs  ;  with 


NOTHING    BUT    MONEY.  97 

other  rapidly  succeeding  means  of  restoration,  gave  mo 
tion  in  time  to  the  impeded  life-circle,  and  the  pulses  be 
gan  again  their  feeble  beat. 

"  Poor  Lena  !  "  Her  heart  was  still  with  her  old 
friend.  They  were  the  first  words  that  parted  her  pale 
lips,  in  returning  cousciousness. 

Poor  Lydia,  rather  !  If  Lena  had  come  into  a  pit 
eous  strait,  how  much  more  piteous  the  strait  of  Lydia  ! 
It  was,  in  the  one  case,  but  as  the  falling  of  a  summer 
storm,  or  the  closing  of  a  summer  day  ;  the  storm 
would  pass  and  leave  the  sky  clearer  than  before  —  the 
night  give  place  to  morning.  But,  for  Lydia,  the  sky 
was  leaden  with  perpetual  clouds  and  unceasing  rain : 
for  Lydia,  it  was  Arctic  night  and  winter  !  The  sun 
of  earthly  love  went  down  long  ago,  never  to  bless  her 
eyes  in  reappearing.  Her  path  was  in  darkness,  and 
she  must  grope  on  painfully  to  the  end. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

N  his  way,  in  custody  of  an  officer,  to 
the  magistrate's,  Doctor  Hofland  ran 
over,  in  his  mind,  a  number  of  persons 
to  whom,  in  his  trouble,  he  might  ven 
ture  to  apply  for  bail.  At  first  thought, 
he  felt  the  assurance  of  a  troop  of  friends. 
But,  doubts  obtruded  as  to  one,  and 
pride  shrunk  from  the  humiliation  of 
an  application  to  another ;  so,  that  by 
the  time  he  was  at  the  office,  he  was  in  a  state  of  pain 
ful  confusion  of  mind. 

"  Will  you  give  bail  ?  "  asked  the  magistrate,  after 
rendering  a  judgment ;  for  the  account  had  been  sworn 
to,  and  the  Doctor,  besides,  acknowledged  its  correct 
ness. 

"  Of  course  I  will ;  but  such  matters  are  difficult  to 
arrange  at  night.  In  the  morning,  I  will  bring  my  se 
curity." 

"  It  must  be  had  to-night,  sir."  The  officer  spoke  to 
the  magistrate.  "  My  instructions  are  positive." 

"  Who  gave  them  ?  "  The  Doctor  turned  sharply 
upon  the  officer. 

"  The  plaintiff  gave  them,  and  we  have  no  discre 
tion." 


NOTHING    BUT   MONEY.  99 

"  The  Doctor  is  an  honorable  man,  Thomas,"  said  the 
magistrate,  interposing. 

"  I  don't  doubt  that,  sir.  But  I'm  a  sworn  officer, 
and  have  no  discretion.  I  must  hold  his  body  until  the 
money  or  the  security  comes." 

"  I'm  sorry,  Doctor.  You  will  have  to  produce  your 
bail  to-night,"  said  the  magistrate. 

"  But,  how  am  I  to  do  that  ?  You  held  me  in  custo 
dy.  I  cannot  go  for  a  friend/' 

"  Perhaps  I  can  get  you  a  messenger.  Harland,"  the 
magistrate  spoke  to  a  constable,  who  sat  listening  with 
an  air  of  indifference. 

The  man  got  up,  and  came  forward. 

"  Will  you  take  word  for  Doctor  Hofland  ?  " 

"  If  he  pays  me,  I  will,"  was  bluntly  replied. 

"  Of  course  I'll  pay  you,"  said  the  Doctor,  with  hard 
ly  concealed  impatience.  "  How  much  do  you  want  ?  " 

"  I'll  go  for  a  dollar." 

Doctor  Hofland  drew  out  his  purse.  "  There,"  and  a 
silver  dollar  passed  to  the  constable's  outstretched  hand. 
Now  came  pause,  debate,  and  hesitation,  on  the  Doc 
tor's  part.  To  whom  should  he  apply  ?  He  had  many 
acquaintances,  and  many  friends.  A  dozen  men,  Avhom 
he  felt  sure  would  spring  to  his  relief,  the  instant  they 
knew  of  his  condition,  were  thought  of ;  but,  in  narrow 
ing  down  the  application  for  security  to  one  after  anoth 
er  of  these,  certain  considerations  were  presented  that 
made  his  thoughts  turn  back,  in  sickening  reluctance  up 
on  himself.  Oh,  the  bitter  humiliation  of  that  hour  ! 
Its  painful  memories  went  with  him  to  his  grave.  At 
last,  a  selection  was  made,  and  a  brief  note  penned  hur- 


100  NOTHING    BUT   MONET. 

riedly.  It  was  addressed  to  a  young  man  of  no  means, 
but  kind  hearted,  and  an  attached  friend.  He  called  on 
him,  because  he  could  rely  on  his  friendship  and  discre 
tion. 

Help  as  well  as  secresy  were  needed.  To  have  the 
thing  bruited  over  the  town  would  be  discreditable,  and 
touch  his  professional  standing. 

For  over  an  hour  Doctor  Hofland  waited,  in  the 
keenest  suspense,  the  return  of  his  messenger.  At  the 
expiration  of  this  time,  he  came  back  alone. 

"  Did  you  see  the  Doctor  ?  "  was  asked  in  an  anxious 
voice. 

"  No,  sir.  He  wasn't  at  home  ;  and  they  didn't  know 
when  he'd  be  in. 

"  Did  you  leave  my  note  ?  " 

The  letter  was  handed  to  the  disappointed  prisoner 
who,  crumpling  it  in  his  hand,  walked  the  office  floor  for 
some  time  in  an^agitated  manner.  Then  sitting  down, 
he  addressed  another  friend,  in  trying  to  communicate 
with  whom,  a  second  half  hour  was  lost.  This  applica 
tion  gave  no  better  result ;  the  friend  was  absent,  and 
not  expected  to  return  until  a  late  hour. 

It  was  now  past  nine  o'clock,  and  the  officer  who  had 
the  doctor  in  charge  began  to  exhibit  impatience,  and 
to  mutter  half  incoherent  sentences,  enough  of  which 

*  O 

reached  the  ears  of  Doctor  Hofland,  to  sting  his  pride 
and  manliness  into  an  agony  -of  pain.  The  prospect  of 
having  to  spend  a  night  in  jail  looked  threatening. 
The  gloomy  prison  stood  a  mile  away  from  the  office 
in  which  he  was  held,  and  the  constable  plainly  intima 
ted  that  he  could  wait  no  longer,  at  so  late  an  hour,  on 
the  uncertain  issue  of  bail. 


NOTHING    BUT    MONEY.  101 

"  I  cannot  go  to  prison  ! "  the  Doctor  exclaimed,  in 
excitement.  "  I  have  scores  of  friends,  who,  if  they 
only  knew  of  this  extremity,  would  hurry  to  my  relief. 
I  am  well  known  to  you,  sir,"  addressing  the  magistrate. 
"  There  is  no  risk,  as  you  can  assure  the  officer,  in  giv 
ing  me  until  to-morrow  morning  to  get  security.  I 
pledge  him  my  'honor,  to  have  a  bondsman  or  the  mon 
ey  for  which  I  have  been  sued,  in  the  office  by  nine 
o'clock.  This  taking  a  man  at  fault,  in  this  way,  is  not 
fair  and  right." 

The    magistrate  turned  to  the    officer   and   added  a 

CJ 

word  in  favor  of  the  Doctor,  but  that  official's  counte 
nance  was  hard  as  iron,  and  resolute. 

"  I  have  no  discretion,"  was  his  unyielding  answer. 
"  The  money  or  bail  must  come.  My  instructions  are 
explicit. 

"  I  will  make  one  more  effort,"  said  the  Doctor, 
forced  into  calmness  ;  and  he  sat  down  and  wrote  to  his 
old  friend,  Adam  Guy.  It  cost  him  a  hard  struggle  to 
do  so  ;  but  pride,  and  an  almost  unconquerable  reluc 
tance  to  expose  himself  in  this  direction,  had  to  be  over 
come.  He  did  not  doubt  for  an  instant  the  result,  if 
the  merchant  should  be  found  at  home,  and  the  proba 
bilities  were  in  favor  of  that.  The  risk  was  small,  and 
Guy  could  not,  in  very  shame,  refuse  help  in  such  an 
extremity.  A  hurried  note  to  Mrs.  Hofland  was  penned 
at  the  same  time,  that  she  might  be  forewarned,  in  case 
the  dreaded  imprisonment  should  result. 

Suspense  had  now  become  almost  unendurable.  The 
Doctor  walked  the  office  floor,  with  the  restless,  short, 
quick  turns  of  a  caged  animal,  unceasingly,  until  his 
messenger  came  back. 


102  NOTHING   BUT   MONEY. 

"  Did  you  see  him  ?  "  The  officer  had  come  in  alone. 
Doctor  Hofland's  face  was  working  all  over. 

"  Yes." 

"  What  did  he  say  ?  " 

"  No,  point  blank  !  " 

"  Adam  Guy  said  no  !  "  Surprise  and  incredulity- 
were  in  his  voice. 

"He  did." 

"  You  gave  him  my  letter  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir,  and  his  answer  was,  '  I  don't  know  any 
thing  about  it.'  Then  I  said,  '  will  you  not  go  his 
bail  ?  '  and  I  thought  he'd  have  taken  my  head  off." 

"  What  were  his  precise  words  ?  "  asked  the  Doctor, 
now  speaking  calmly. 

"  His  precise  words  were,  '  That  is  what  I  never  do. 
Good  evening  ! '  And  then  he  turned  from  me  as  if  I 
were  a  dog." 

*'  Did  you  deliver  the  letter  I  gave  you  for  Mrs. 
Hofland  ? "  asked  the  Doctor,  his  voice  faltering  a 
little. 

"  I  did." 

"  Nothing  more  can  be  done  to-night.  I  am  ready 
to  go  with  you."  The  Doctor  spoke  firmly  as  he 
looked  towards  the  officer  who  had  him  in  charge. 
"  It's  a  cruel  outrage,"  he  added,  "  and  one  of  which 
Henry  Warfield  will  repent." 

"  It  would  have  been  better,"  remarked  the  magis 
trate,  "  if  you  had  sent  notes  to  several  of  your  friends 
at  once.  Ere  this  time,  one  or  more  of  them  would 
have  arrived.  Before  going  with  the  officer,  I  would 
suggest  your  writing  to  one  or  two  gentlemen  of  your 


NOTHING    BUT    MONEY.  103 

<* 

acquaintance,  in  order  that  you  may  be  relieved  in  the 
morning.  Harland  will  see  that  the  notes  are  delivered 
to-night." 

"  You  left  the  second  letter  ?  "  Doctor  Hofland  turned 
to  the  constable,  named  Harland. 

"  Yes." 

"  That  will  do.  If  the  friend  to  whom  it  was  sent 
had  been  at  home,  I  would  not  be  here  now.  He 
will  make  all  right  at  the  earliest  possible  time  to 
morrow  morning." 

"  He  may  be  here  yet,*'  said  the  magistrate,  who 
was  reluctant  to  see  the  Doctor  so  needlessly  committed 
to  prison.  He  drew  out  his  watch,  and  the  officer  who 
made  the  arrest  did  the  same.  The  latter  shook  his 
head,  saying  — 

"  It's  a  quarter  to  ten  now.  I  can  wait  no  longer. 
The  jail  doesn't  stand  next  door.  Come,  sir." 

Dropping  his  head  upon  his  bosom,  the  unhappy 
prisoner  moved  toward  the  door,  and  passed  out  silently. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

Y  day  dawn  Mrs.  Hofland  is  up  and 
waiting  expectantly.  As  footfalls  be 
gin  to  sound  along  the  pavement,  she 
listens  for  the  well  known  tread  of  her 
husband's  feet,  but  listens  in  vain. 
One  after  another,  the  passers  come 
and  go  ;  the  number  steadily  increasing 
as  the  day  opens  brighter  and  broader. 
Breakfast  has  been  ready  for  half  an 
hour,  but  the  Doctor  is  away  still.  What  can  it 
mean?  Lena's  overstrained  feelings  are  getting  the 
mastery.  The  wearying  doubts  that  have  perplexed 
her  through  the  night,  have  changed  to  cloudy  fears. 
Some  evil  must  have  befallen  her  husband ! 

It  is  nine  o'clock,  and  still  no  word,  no  appearance. 
Office  patients  have  arrived  and  departed  ;  some  still 
linger,  on  the  assurance  that  the  Doctor  is  expected  to 
come  in  every  moment.  Half  past  nine.  Poor  Lena  ! 
suspense  has  become  agony.  Ten  o'clock.  The  two 
elder  children  have  gone  to  school,  and  she  is  sitting 
•with  the  baby  on  her  lap,  when  the  door  opens,  and  the 
face  of  her  husband  looks  in.  No  wonder  she  starts 
and  cries  out  in  mingled  gladness  and  pain  —  gladness 
that  her  husband  has  returned ;  pain  in  beholding  the 


NOTHING    BUT   MONEY.  105 

change  wrought  on  him  since  his  sudden  departure  last 
evening.  His  unshaven  face  is  pale  and  exhausted  ; 
his  hair  in  disorder  ;  his  eyes  sad  and  troubled ;  his 
garments  soiled. 

"  Oh  my  husband  !  Where  have  you  been  ?  What 
ails  you  ?  What  has  happened  ?  '"' 

These  sentences  leap  from  Lena's  lips,  as  she  lays  her 
babe  down  hurriedly,  and  starts  forward  to  meet  her 
husband.  He  catches  both  her  hands,  grasping  them 
with  a  close,  nervous  grip  ;  and,  as  he  holds  them,  says 
in  a  voice  that  chokes  the  words,  spite  of  all  efforts  to 
speak  evenly  — 

"  I've  been  in  jail,  Lena  !  " 

"•Edward!  No  — no!" 

"  Yes,  Lena."  The  voice  is  steady  now  —  manhood, 
in  a  strong,  quick  struggle,  has  triumphed. 

"In  jail!" 

"  Yes,  darling,  in  jail  for  debt.     It  was  an  outrage." 

"  For  debt !     What  debt  ?  "     Tears  are  running  over 

C5 

her  face. 

"  A  debt  of  some  ninety  dollars  to  Henry  Warfield. 
He  took  a  mean  and  cruel  advantage.  It  was  after 
night  when  the  officer  arrested  me,  and  I  found  it  im 
possible  to  arrange  security  at  so  late  an  hour." 

Mrs.  Hofland  laid  her  face  upon  her  husband's  breast, 
and  sobbed  violently. 

"  Oh,  my  husband  !  My  precious  husband  !  That 
you  should  have  been  so  disgraced  !  In  jail !  I  cannot 
bear  this!" 

The  Doctor  drew  his  arm  around  Lena,  and  as  they 
passed  up  to  their  chamber,  he  sa'id  — 
5* 


106  NOTHING    BUT    MONEY. 

"  The  lesson  may  have  been  needed,  dear.  I  had 
time  to  think  last  night." 

"  Needed  ?     Oh,  Edward  !  " 

"  It  is  wrong  to  be  in  debt  —  wrong  for  us,  I  mean," 
said  the  Doctor,  as  he  sat  down,  on  passing  into  the 
chamber ;  "we  should  not  have  lived  beyond  our  in 
come." 

"  Deeper  shadows  fell  over  the  face  of  Mrs.  Hof- 
land.  A  pang  of  self-reproach  shot  through  her  heart. 
"It  is  no  fault  of  yours;  I  only  am  to  blame,"  contin 
ued  the  Doctor,  who  saw  into  her  thoughts.  "  I  have 
not  been  a  wise  and  prudent  man  —  have  not  restrict 
ed  want  to  means  ;  and  here  is  the  result.  How  blind 
—  how  foolish  —  how  criminal  I  have  been  !  " 

"  Don't,  don't,  Edward  !  I  cannot  bear  to  hear  you 
say  this  now,"  said  Lena. 

"  It  is  wisest  to  look  truth  in  the  face,"  was  answered. 
"  She  has  been  sitting  beside  me  all  night,  stern  of 
aspect,  and  I  have  grown  familiar  enough  with  her  pres 
ence  to  endure  it  for  awhile  longer.  She  turned  the 
leaves  of  my  book  of  life  backwards,  and  showed  me  a 
record,  the  reading  of  which  made  my  cheek  red  with 
shame  and  humiliation.  Ah,  my  wife !  there  is  another 
law  for  a  man's  government  in  this  world,  than  the  law 
of  mere  desire.  Covetousness  is  idolatry  !  " 

Mrs.  Hofland  gazed,  in  questioning  surprise,  at  her 
husband.  He  went  on. 

"  With  me,  taste  and  desire  have  too  often  ruled  in 
stead  of  prudence  ;  and  now,  with  costly  pictures  and  the 
like,  filling  our  rooms,  I  am  in  debt  and  at  the  mercy  of 
eager  creditors.  This  is  wrong  —  all  wrong,  Lena.  Let 


NOTHING    BUT    MONEY.  107 

us  begin  again  —  even  at  the  very  beginning.  This 
day,  I  am  at  least  three  thousand  dollars  in  debt ;  and 
to-night,  if  a  creditor  chose,  he  may  send  me  again  to 
prison." 

Mrs.  Hofland  shuddered,  and  her  pale  face  grew  paler. 

"  Oh,  Edward  !  Don't  say  that,"  she  sobbed,  tears 
flowing  anew. 

"  It  is  the  simple,  hard  truth  of  the  case,  dear;  and 
there  is  no  use  in  disguise,"  said  the  Doctor.  "  The 
more  steadily  we  look  it  in  the  face,  the  better  shall  we 
be  able  to  comprehend  our  exact  position,  and  the  more 
certainly  devise  our  way  of  escape." 

"  Do  you  see  a  way  of  escape  ?  "  asked  Mrs.  Hofland. 

"  Yes." 

"  In  what  direction  ?  " 

"  The  way  will  be  rough,  dear." 

"  No  matter.  If  your  feet  are  strong  enough,  mine 
shall  not  falter.  Point  out  the  way,  dear  husband  ! 
Or,  turn  into  it,  and  you  shall  find  me  a  brave  and 
cheerful  walker  by  your  side." 

"  I  said,  we  must  begin  again  —  even  at  the  very  be 
ginning,  Lena." 

"  We  cannot  do  that.  The  past  is  past.  But,  wo 
may  change  our  course." 

"  We  may  begin  a  new  order  of  things." 

"Yes." 

"  And  that  is  what  I  mean.  But,  before  this  is 
fairly  possible,  some  steps  must  be  retraced.  As  I  sat 
waiting  on  the  slow  moving  hours,  last  night,  and 
watching  for  the  day-dawn,  I  went  over  all  our  affairs, 
and  got  at  the  exact  result.  It  stands  thus.  The  cost 


108  NOTHING   BUT    MONEY. 

of  pictures,  statuettes,  bronze  figures,  rare  and  elegant 
books,  coins,  medals,  minerals,  and  other  things  not  ab 
solutely  required  for  household  comfort,  has  reached  the 
sum  of  twenty-five  hundred  dollars.  I  propose  to  sell 
these  by  auction.  If  they  bring  fifteen  hundred  dol 
lars  only,  that  will  lift  half  the  burden  of  our  debt  at 
once.  I  feel  assured,  if  the  thing  is  rightly  managed, 
of  realizing  nearly  their  cost.  I  shall  arrange  in  this 
way  ; —  Have  them  removed  to  a  room,  engaged  for 
the  purpose,  and  minutely  catalogued  and  described. 
Auctioneers  understand  the  management  of  such  mat 
ters.  Through  advertisements  and  the  distribution  of 
catalogues  among  the  right  persons,  a  company  may  be 
assembled  that  will  bid  up  most  of  the  articles  to  their 
cost  value.  In  that  case  we  would  be  almost  freed  from 
debt  in  an  hour.  But,  this  is  anticipating  too  much." 

"  To  sell  at  auction  will  certainly  involve  a  heavy 
sacrifice,"  said  Lena,  her  countenance  not  fully  respond 
ing  to  the  hopeful  light  which  had  begun  to  glow-in 
that  of  her  husband. 

"  We  must  expect  such  a  result,  and  so  prepare  for 
disappointment,"  replied  the  Doctor. 

"  A  disappointment  that  will  still  leave  on  us  the 
burden  of  debt." 

"  But  a  lighter  burden." 

"  The  smallest  burden  will  be  as  a  mountain  hereaf 
ter,"  said  Lena,  despondingly. 

^  My  thought  went  further,"  remarked  the  Doctor, 
looking  steadily  at  his  wife. 

"  How  inuch  further  ?  Did  it  reach  to  the  entire 
extinguishment  of  this  debt  ?  "  She  bent  eagerly  to 
wards  him.  "  Nothing  less  than  that,  Edward." 


NOTHING   BUT   MONEY.  109 

"  It  did,  Lena." 

"  Then  say  on." 

"  The  rent  of  this  house  is  four  hundred  and  fifty 
dollars  a  year." 

"  Yes.'"' 

"  Too  much  for  us  to  pay,  under  present  circumstan 
ces." 

"  I  have  always  thought  the  rent  too  high,"  said  Le 
na. 

"  We  have  been  no  happier  here  than  we  were  in  that 
cosy  nest  at  first  called  home." 

"  Not  so  happy,  I  have  sometimes  thought,"  replied 
Lena.  "  There  has  been  more  care  for  appearances, 
here  ;  more  looking  out  upon  the  world ;  more  con 
sciousness  of  being  under  the  eye  of  society  —  and  these 
things  take  away  the  mind's  tranquillity." 

"  That  dear  little  house  is  for  rent  again.  I  saw  the 
bill  up  yesterday." 

"  Then  we  will  go  back  to  it  again.  Two  hundred 
and  fifty  dollars  saved  in  our  expenses  will,  of  itself,  ex 
tinguish  a  thousand  dollars  of  debt  in  four  years,  if  no 
quicker  means  can  be  found.  But,  the  change  to  that 
house  will  help  more  than  the  saving  in  rent.  Two 
servants  are  absolutely  necessary  in  this  one  ;  in  that  I 
can  do  with  a  single  servant.  This  will  make  a  differ 
ence  of  at  least  a  hundred  and  fifty  dollars  more  in  our 
expenses." 

"  But,  the  house  will  afford  no  office,"  said  the  Doc 
tor.  "  I've  thought  it  over,  but  can't  settle  this  point." 

"  The  parlor  must  serve  for  an  office,"  was  answer 
ed. 


110  NOTHING   BUT    MONEY. 

"  Then  we  shall  have  no  parlor  —  no  room  in  which 
to  receive  our  friends." 

Mrs.  Hofland  was  thinking  rapidly.  Where  there  is 
a  will  there  is  a  way,  and  she  found  the  adage  true. 

"  We  can  take  the  room  over  the  parlor,"  she  replied. 
"  There  are  two  rooms,  beside  this  one,  on  the  second 
floor,  and  these  will  give  the  chambers  we  need  for  our 
selves  and  the  children." 

"  There  will  be  no  spare  room  for  a  friend,"  objected 
the  Doctor. 

"  A  sofa  bed  in  the  parlor  can  be  used  on  an  emergen 
cy.  But,  at  present,  Edward,  only  the  question  of  right 
and  duty  is  before  us,  and  we  must  settle  that,  irrespec 
tive  of  other  considerations." 

"  We  have  twice  the  quantity  of  furniture  that  will 
be  needed,"  said  the  Doctor. 

"  The  rest  can  be  sold,"  was  Lena's  prompt  answer. 
"  A  few  hundred  dollars  more  will  be  gained  in  this  way, 
and  debt  still  further  diminished.  Out  of  debt,  out  of 
danger,  dear  husband  !  Let  us  act  promptly.  I  shall 
never  have  one  hour  of  undisturbed  peace,  while  a  dollar 
of  debt  remains." 

"  Nor  I ;  and  as  peace  of  mind  is,  beyond  all  mere 
external  things,  most  to  be  desired,  we  will  seek  it  in  the 
directest  way.  Ah,  to  think  what  this  burden  of  debt  has 
cost  me  !  What  hours  of  discouragement  —  what  pain 
ful  humiliations  —  what  a  stinging  sense  of  wrong  — 
what  fears  and  tremors.  It  has  robbed  me  of  fredom 
and  manliness.  I  have  felt  myself,  all  the  while,  in  the 
power  of  others.  It  has  been  the  death's  head  at  my 
feast,  Lena." 


NOTHING    BUT   MONEY.  Ill 

"  But  shall  be  no  longer,  Edward  !  Sell  everything. 
I  would  rather  have  uncarpeted  floors,  and  the  humblest 
and  homeliest  things  around  me,  than  to  see  your  honor 
touched  or  your  peace  invaded." 


CHAPTER  XIV. 


IKE  a  true  woman,  as  she  was,  Lena 
did  not  falter.  She  was  stronger  in 
this  thing  than  her  husband.  The  ar 
dor  of  his  purpose  cooled,  as  the  ex 
citement  of  feeling  occasioned  by  that 
night's  imprisonment  died  away,  and  he 
began  to  look  more  soberly  at  the 
changes  proposed.  Professional  and 
social  pride  arose  as  hindrances.  It  is 
easier  to  go  up  than  to  go  down.  The  more  Doctor 

O  i  O 

Hofland  dwelt  on  the  issues  he  had  looked  so  bravely  in 
the  face  at  first,  the  more  did  he  shrink  from  encounter 
ing  them.  There  was,  in  this  receding  from  the  social 
position  he  had  assumed,  an  acknowledgment  that  he  had 
overstepped  his  means,  and  been  forced  back  into 
obscurity.  Then  taste  and  love  of  art,  clung  to  the 
beautiful  objects  with  which  he  had  surrounded  himself. 
How  could  he  part  from  these  ?  His  rare  books  and 
coins,  his  cabinet  of  minerals,  his  objects  in  natural 
history  —  the  accumulation  of  years  ;  must  these  go 
also  ?  He  could  not  look  this  sacrifice  bravely  and  stead 
ily  in  the  face,  and  said  —  "  It  must  not  be  !  " 

But,  Lena  did  not  turn  back.     That  one  night  of 
absence  from  her  husband,  and  the  shock  that  followed 


NOTHING    BUT    MONEY.  113 

vhen  the  truth  it  involved  broke  painfully  on  her  excited 

nind,  was  a    trumpet-tongued    argument    perpetually 

lounding  in  her  ears.     To  have  the    husband    she  so 

|ionored  and  loved,  suffer  this  cruel    humiliation,  had 

Idwarfed   to  insignificance  ail  things  else.     She  would 

never  rest,  until  he  stood  beyond  the  power  of  any  man 

\o  lay  so  much  as  a  finger  upon  him.     Debt  must  be  extin- 

uished,  at  any  and  every  sacrifice,  even  to  the    last 

rthing  —  and  that  in  the  shortest  possible  time. 

On  the  evening  that  closed  this  day,  the  Doctor  and 
s  wife  sat  alone  in  consultation. 

I  went  past  the  old  house  this  afternoon,"  said  the 

ctor. 

,'  Is  the  bill  up  ?  "  There  was  anxiety  in  the  voice 
of  iLena.  A  fear  lest  the  house  had  been  taken,  crossed 
herWind. 

"fifes." 

"  \)id  you  see  the  landlord  ?  " 

"  to." 

"  Wiy  not  ?     Some  one  else  may  secure  it." 

"  Tfte  house  looked  very  small,  Lena."  And  the 
Doctorsighed  faintly,  as  he  let  his  eyes  wander  around 
the  roon  in  which  they  were  sitting,  and  from  thence 
into  the  «ie  adjoining. 

"  It  wa^  large  enough  to  hold  us  once,  Edward,  and 
is  large  emugh  to  do  it  again;"  said  Lena,  firmly. 

"  We  hare  more  in  the  family,  now,"  rejoined  the 
doctor. 

"•We  are  Vi  debt,"  said  Lena,  with  an  emphasis  that 
put  nerve  intAthe  Doctor's  failing  heart.  "  That  argu 
ment  overrides\  all  others.  This  morning,  we  decided 


114  NOTHING    BUT    MONEY. 

our  course  of  action  ;  and  now,  let  there  be  no  falter 
ing.  You  said  that  we  must  enter  a  new  way  ;  and  I 
answered  yea,  and  amen  !  My  steps  shall  not  linger, 
Edward.  You  pictured  it  as  a  hard  and  difficult  way. 
I  see  it  as  plain  and  easy.  That  in  which  we  now 
tread,  is  hard  and  difficult.  Every  step  is  among  hin 
drances  and  entanglements.  Already  there  has  beer 
stumbling  and  falling — wounds  and  bruises — pains 
and  humiliations.  We  must  return,  and  get  upon  i 
smoother,  an  easier,  and  a  safer  road." 

"  You  are  a  brave,  true  woman,  Lena,"  said  her  hus 
band,  as  warmth  came  back  into  his  face.  "  But  this 
going  down  so  far  must  be  prevented  if  possible.  I 
have  been  looking  over  my  bills,  and  find  nearly  tvo 
thousand  dollars  uncollected,  on  my  books.  One  thou 
sand  of  this  ought  to  be  realized  within  three  months. 
I  will  see  my  collector,  and  confer  with  him  in  regard 
to  an  earnest  pressure  for  settlements.  A  number  of 
accounts  against  persons  really  able,  but  indifferent  as 
to  payment,  could  be  sued  out.  A  thousand  dollars 
within  three  months  would  more  than  satisfy  ill  de 
mands  against  me  likely  to  become  troublesoma.  My 
practice  is  steadily  increasing,  as  you  know,  and  may 
yield  enough  beyond  our  expenses  to  liquidate  every 
thing  in  a  year  or  two." 

"  A  year  or  two  !  Oh  Edward  !  A  year  or  two  of 
debt  and  danger !  No  —  no  ;  not  a  morth,  say  I ! 
We  thought  it  out  all  rightly  this  morning.  Let  us  be 
just  to  others,  and  just  to  ourselves.  Mate  out  an  in 
ventory  at  once,  including  every  article  not  absolutely 
needed,  and  sell  to  the  best  advantage.  If  you  can 


NOTHING    BUT    MONEY.  115 

collect  a  thousand  dollars  in  three  months,  so  much  the 
better ;  but  don't  sue  anybody  —  people  may  appear 
less  able  than  they  are  —  forgive,  but  don't  sue.  '  I 
wouldn't  have  you  gain  a  dollar  through  constraint  of 
any  one.  Sickness  often  impoverishes  the  means,  while 
it  adds  to  the  expenses.  Let  us  command  our  own  re 
sources,  and  limit  our  own  wants.  This  is  the  right 
way,  husband  ;  and  the  right  way  is  always  the  safest 
and  the  best  way." 

And  so  Lena  brought  him  back  to  his  first  best  reso 
lution.  On  the  next  day,  the  little  house,  with  its  sweet 
garden  in  front,  was  secured.  Rose-bushes,  which  they 
had  planted,  climbed  now  to  the  upper  windows,  hang 
ing  green  wreaths,  flower-starred,  above  and  around 
them.  A  pair  of  dwarf  evergreens,  also  planted  by 
them,  nearly  ten  years  before,  stood  just  within,  and  on 
each  side  of  the  gate,  their  graceful  top  branches  bow 
ing  in  the  summer  airs  a  seeming  conscious  welcome. 
Running  back  from  these,  and  grown  wonderfully,  like 
children  seen  after  the  absence  of  a  few  years,  stood  on 
each  side  of  the  walk  leading  to  the  house,  a  bank  of 
dark  green  box.  Standard  roses,  and  fragrant  honey 
suckle,  towered  above  less  ambitious  plants  and  flowers, 
filling  the  air  with  sweetness. 

"  How  familiar  and*  home-like,"  said  Lena,  as  she 
passed  through  the  white  gate  with  her  husband,  to  look 
at  the  house,  preparatory  to  deciding  on  a  removal. 
"  Here  is  the  very  Champney  I  planted  with  my  own 
hands  !  See  how  it  has  grown.  And  there  is  the 
white  jessamine  I  left  with  its  slender  arms  not  six  feet 
high,  hanging  now  its  graceful  drapery  around  the  up- 


116  NOTHING   BUT    MONEY. 

per  windows.      What  a  dear,  sweet  little  spot  it  is,  Ed 
ward.     We  shall  be  happy  here  again." 

The  Doctor  unlocked  the  door,  and  they  went  in. 
"  The  rooms  are  very  small,"  he  said,  with  a  sigh,  after 
pushing  open  the  window  shutters. 

"  They  are  large  enough  for  love  and  duty,"  answer 
ed  Lena,  with  a  smile.  "  Better  be  straitened  as  to 
the  body,  than  the  mind.  These  smaller  rooms  shall 
be  as  wide  palaces  for  our  freer  souls.  Ah,  husband, 
dear !  —  it  is  from  within  that  our  truest  pleasures 
come.  If  right  with  ourselves  and  the  world,  we  may 
be  happy  in  the  humblest  cottage.  But  if  not,  no 
princely  mansion  can  give  peace  to  our  souls." 

They  went  from  room  to  room,  with  old  emotions 
coming  back  into  their  hearts,  and  filling  them  with  ten 
derness.  In  this  chamber,  a  babe  was  born ;  in  that 
one,  a  babe  took  its  departure  for  Heaven.  Ah,  the 
blessedness  and  the  pain  !  The  joy  of  birth,  and  the 
pangs  of  bereavement.  Softened  and  sanctified  by  time 
and  discipline,  the  joy  and  the  sorrow  were  felt  again. 

It  went  hard  with  the  Doctor  to  consent  at  the  final 
moment  of  decision.  Pride  and  principle  came  into 
strong  conflict,  and  but  for  the  unwavering  spirit  of  his 
wife,  he  would  have  receded.  But,  once  fully  compre 
hending  their  situation  —  the  Doctor  had  until  now 
concealed  from  her  the  extent  of  his  embarrassments 
—  all  hesitation,  and  looking  to  the  right  or  the  left, 
were  gone.  Back,  back,  quickly,  from  a  position  of 
danger  !  So  her  heart  and  her  thought  said  ;  and  as 
she  felt  and  thought,  so  was  she  prepared  to  act. 

Notwithstanding  many  suggested  changes  in  the  pro- 


NOTHING   BUT   MONEY.  117 

gramme  at  first  presented  by  Dr.  Hofland,  and  then  ap 
proved  by  himself  and  his  wife,  that  programme,  thanks 
to  Lena's  firmness,  was  strictly  carried  out ;  and  when 
they  were  fairly  domiciled  in  their  humbler  home,  it 
would  have  been  a  hard  and  selfish  creditor  indeed,  who 
complained  of  superfluity.  Not  a  picture  nor  a  book, 
outside  of  the  Doctor's  medical  library,  that  was  of  val 
ue,  nor  anything  merely  ornamental,  or  that  could  be 
spared  in  housekeeping,  was  removed  to  the  new  abode. 
All  were  sold :  and  with  what  result  ?  Let  us  see. 


CHAPTER  XV. 


T  was  just  one  week  after  Doctor  Hol 
land  and  his  wife  had  taken  their  step 
downward,  as  to  external  things,  but  up 
ward,  as  to  the  internal.  They  were 
alone,  sitting  in  the  plain  little  room  on 
the  second  floor,  which  they  now  called 
their  parlor.  The  mental  discipline,  hu 
miliations  and  anxieties  through  which 
they  had  passed,  left  on  each  the  sober 
hues  of  thought.  But,  there  was  nothing  of  unhappi- 
ness  —  nothing  of  complaint  visible  on  their  countenan 
ces. 

"  I  received  an  account  of  sales,  to-day,"  said  the 
Doctor,  as  he  laid  a  folded  paper  on  the  table. 

"  Did  you  ?  "  Expectation  lit  up  the  countenance 
of  Mrs.  Hofland  —  expectation,  in  which  suspense,  and 
a  shade  of  anxiety,  were  visible. 

"  Yes,  and  the  result  is  better  than  I  had  any  good 
reason  to  anticipate." 

"  Oh  Edward!  What  a  relief!  "  Tears  glistened 
in  Lena's  eyes. 

The  Doctor  opened  the  paper,  and  running  down  his 
eyes  to  the  last  footing  of  a  series  of  long  columns  of  fig 
ures,  said  — 


NOTHING    BUT    MONEY.  119 

"  The  sum  realized  is  twenty-seven  hundred  and 
eighty-one  dollars  ;  within  two  hundred  dollars  of  all  I 
owe." 

"  My  dear  husband  !  I  am  happier  this  hour  than 
I  have  been  for  years  !  "  Drops  of  gladness  fell  over 
Lena's  cheeks.  "  Thank  God  for  showing  us  the  right 
path,  and  for  giving  us  courage  to  walk  in  it !  " 

"  Thank  God,  I  say,  for  so  brave,  so  true,  so  self- 
denying  a  wife  !  "  responded  the  Doctor,  as  he  caught 
Lena's  hand  and  pressed  it  against  his  heart,  where  her 
head  was  lying  a  moment  afterwards.  "  I  was  not 
strong  enough,  standing  alone,  for  this,"  he  added.  "  If 
you  had  faltered,  our  feet  would  still  be  in  difficult  ways 
—  our  sky  clouded  —  our  hearts  in  trouble.  But  now, 
there  is  no  longer  any  fear.  The  way  is  plain  before 
us.  The  sky  is  sunny.  I  can  lift  a  brave  head  —  I 
can  look  every  man  I  meet  steadily  in  the  face.  Oh, 
freedom  !  freedom  !  It  is  worth  any  struggle  —  any 
sacrifice.  What  joy  is  there  in  a  large  house  ;  in  pic 
tures  ;  in  costly  furniture ;  in  the  possession  of  rare 
books,  the  leaves  of  which  are  not  turned  once  in  a 
year  ;  in  gloss  and  ornament,  if  a  nightmare  of  debt 
lies  ever  on  the  constricted  bosom  ?  How  blind,  how 
weak,  how  irrational  I  have  been  ?  I  wonder  and  am 
ashamed  of  myself." 

"  The  lesson  is  for  all  time,"  said  Mrs.  Hofland,  smil 
ing  through  tears  of  gladness,  that  still  trembled  in  her 
eyes.  "  We  shall  not  make  this  error  again." 

"Never  again,  Lena!"  answered  her  husband. 
"  What  with  one  hand  we  take  from  the  world,  shall 
be  paid  for  by  the  other.  If  our  means  are  small,  we 


120  NOTHING    BUT    MONEY. 

will  restrict  our  wants.  Debt  shall  be  an  unknown  ele 
ment  in  our  home  economy.  As  for  things  of  taste 
and  ornament  —  now  departed  —  they  will  be  restored 
in  time,  and  speak  to  our  souls  a  higher  and  truer  lan 
guage  than  before.  This  discipline  and  self-denial,  if 
rightly  borne,  will  open  our  minds  more  interiorly,  and 
give  them  a  truer  knowledge  of  the  use  that  lies  in 
the  beautiful.  Hitherto,  a  covetous  desire  to  possess 
has  depraved,  with  me,  all  love  of  art ;  and  so  robbed 
me  of  the  higher  delights  it  might  have  given.  I  see 
this  clearly,  and  must  strive  against  and  overcome  that 
evil  in  the  mind  which  has  been  pronounced  idolatry." 
"  And  so,"  said  Lena,  "  we  are  not  really  going 
down,  but  ascending  in  life.  This  change  of  position, 
is  not  a  fall,  but  a  rise.  If  we  see  in  a  clearer  atmos 
phere,  and  have  a  more  extended  vision,  we  must  be  at 
a  higher  elevation  than  before." 

"  We  are,  Lena.  Our  embarrassing  relations  with 
the  world  were  as  clogs,  holding  us  down.  The  soul 
sat,  groveling,  among  the  meaner  things  of  life ;  its  vi 
sion  clouded,  its  strength  impaired.  Thought  dwelt 
more  in  the  outward  than  the  inward  —  in  customs, 
usages,  appearances,  opinions  and  the  like.  But,  in 
acting  as  we  have  done,  from  a  principle  of  right  and 
justice,  we  have  emancipated  ourselves.  The  thought 
of  how  this  and  that  will  appear,  is  removed,  and  ques- 
^tions  of  right  or  wrong  must  now  determinate  our  ac 
tions.  This  is  freedom  ;  this  is  growth  ;  this  is  the 
soul's  true  order  of  existence." 

So  they  talked  concerning  their  newly  assumed  rela 
tion  to  the  world  ;  and  while  they  thus  talked,  this  new 


NOTHING    BUT    MONEY.  121 

relation  formed  the  theme  of  remark  in  another  house 
hold.  Let  us  pass  to  that  of  Adam  Guy,  the  merchant. 

".Our  fast  friends  have  gone  over  the  precipice,  as  I 
predicted  long  ago."  There  was  a  gleam  of  satisfac 
tion  in  Adam's  cold  eyes  as  he  thus  spoke  to  his  wife. 

"  To  whom  do  you  refer  ?  "  asked  Mrs.  Guy,  rousing 
herself  from  a  state  of  moody  discontent  in  which  she 
had  been  sitting  for  some  time. 

"  Doctor  Hofland  and  his  wife."  There  was  as 
much  pleasure  in  his  voice  as  in  his  eyes. 

"  What  of  them  ?  "     Mrs.  Guy  was  all  interest  now. 

"  The  Doctor  had  a  night's  experience  in  jail  a  week 
or  two  ago." 

"  More  the  shame  for  you !  "  was  answered  caustical 
ly.  "  I  never  could  have  believed  that  of  Adam 
Guy." 

"  Believed  what  ?  " 

"  That  you  would  have  abandoned  an  old  friend  in 
such  an  extremity.  Ninety  dollars  !  It  will  be  remem 
bered  against  you  !  " 

"  Indeed !  "  Spoken  contemptuouslv.  And  by 
whom?" 

"  People  lay  up  these  things." 

"  People  !  Pah  !  What  do  I  care  for  people, 
one  half  of  whom  I  can  buy  and  sell  ?  "  And  Guy 
snapped  his  fingers  scornfully. 

"  What  were  you  going  to  say  about  the  Hoflands?" 
asked  Lydia,  a  feeling  of  disgust  hindering  any  further 
remark  in  the  direction  her  husband's  thoughts  were 
moving. 

"  I  said,  they  had  gone  over  the  precipice  at  last ; 


122  NOTHING    BUT    MONEY. 

and  no  one  cares,  I  reckon.  People  of  their  style  don't 
make  many  substantial  friends." 

"  Why  don't  they  ?  " 

"  Fast  living  and  fast  friendship  are  imcompatible 
things.  Your  eternal  borrower  wears  out  his  welcome. 
You  sit  uneasily  beside  a  friend  whose  thought  is  on 
your  purse,  rather  than  on  the  theme  in  which  he 
affects  an  interest.  I  know.  Rut  the  Doctor  has 
found  his  level  at  last,  and  I'm  glad  of  it." 

"  What  has  happened  to  him  ?  " 

"  You  remember  that  little  bird  box  in  which  thej 
first  lived  ?  " 

"Yes." 

"  His  sign  is  on  the  door  again." 

"Doctor  Hofland's?" 

"  Doctor  Holland's.  I  passed  there  to-day,  and 
read  it  with  my  own  eyes.  People  who  stand  too  high, 
are  apt  to  fall.  I  saw,  long  ago,  what  the  end  would 
be.  That  night  in  jail  did  the  work  for  him,  I've  no 
doubt.  Creditors  are  a  scary  kind  of  people ;  when 
one  of  their  number  pounces  down  on  a  poor  unfortu 
nate,  they  are  apt  to  follow  on  swift  wings,  so  as  to  be 
in  at  the  death.  They've  made  short  work  with  the 
Doctor;  that's  plain.  Ha!  ha!  How  it  must  have 
surprised  him  !  Well.  Let  every  tub  stand  on  its  own 
bottom,  I  say.  Doctor  Hofland  has  no  more  right  to 
live  off  of  other  people,  than  your  common  pickpocket." 

"  Don't,  don't,  Adam  !  I  can't  bear  to  hear  you 
talk  so  about  the  Doctor.  He  may  have  been  imprudent ; 
but  to  compare  him  with  a  common  pickpocket,  is  an 
outrage." 


NOTHING    BUT    MONEY.  123 

"  There's  no   difference."     Guy  spoke  in  a  kind  of 
savage  ill-nature.     "  The  Doctor's  better  education  in- 

o 

creases  his  responsibility.  Men  of  his  class  are  the  re 
spectable  pickpockets  of  society  ;  and  what  is  more  in 
regard  to  them,  their  victims  are  often  so  tied  hand  and 

O 

foot  by  friendship,  consanguinities,  social  relations,  or 
sympathies,  that  resistance  is  impossible.  Your  footpad 
or  burglar  may  be  shot  down  ;  but  these  decent-faced 
robbers  hold  you  gently  by  the  hand,  and  pour  honeyed 
words  into  your  ears,  while  they  rifle  your  purse.  You 
understand  it  all,  but  can  make  no  resistance.  I'm 
always  pleased  when  society  spots  them,  writing  rogue 
on  their  backs.  It  has  done  so  in  Holland's  case,  and 
I  am  glad  of  it." 

Mrs.  Guy  did  not  answer,  but  turned  herself  part 
ly  away  from  her  husband,  bending  close  down  over 
some  needlework  on  which  she  was  employed. 

"  I  don't  want  you  to  go  there,"  said  Guy,  who, 
after  finishing  his  conclusive  declaration  against  his  old 
friend,  waited  to  hear  what  answer  his  wife  would  make. 
He  knew  that  she  had  still  a  warm  side  towards  Lena 
and  her  husband  —  though,  through  his  management, 
social  intercourse  had  long  ago  ceased  —  and  uttered 
his  sweeping  condemnations  more  for  the  sake  of  annoy 
ing  her  than  anything  else.  He  saw  from  her  manner 
that  he  had  made  no  impression  whatever  against  her 
-friends,  and  that  grief  at  their  misfortune  was  the  only 
sentiment  stirring  in  her  heart.  Remembering  how,  on 
learning  the  danger  which  threatened  the  Doctor  a 
week  or  two  before,  she  had  yielded  to  the  impulse, 
that,  but  for  his  interference,  would  have  borne  her 


124  NOTHING    BUT    MONEY. 

with  swift  feet  as  a  comforter  to  Lena,  he  had  uttered 
the  brief  interdiction  at  the  commencement  of  this  par 
agraph. 

"  Go  where  ?  "  asked  Mrs.  Guy.  Her  thin,  pale  lips, 
closed  tightly  as  the  words  left  them.  Her  eyes  were 
steady  —  her  brows  knit. 

-"  To  Dr.  Hofland's."  The  answer  was  emphatic. 
Adam  saw  down  into  his  wife's  thoughts.  He  was 
quick-sighted  in  all  that  came  in  opposition  to  his  will  or 
wishes. 

"  If  you  choose  to  desert  a  friend  in  misfortune,  I 
shall  not."  Mrs.  Guy's  utterance  was  slow,  and  her 
tones  resolute.  "  I  am  going  to  call  on  Lena." 

"  Indeed  you  are  not."  There  was  a  quick,  short 
rattle  in  the  voice  of  Adam  Guy. 

"  We  will  bandy  no  words,  Adam.  You  heard  what 
I  said."  Mrs.  Guy's  tone  was  unfaltering. 

"  I  command  you  not  to  go !  "  Passion  swept  him 
away  into  a  brutal  violence  of  manner. 

"  And  I  shall  disobey  your  command,  because  you  have 
no  right  to  lay  it  on  me."  Mrs.  Guy's  color  mounted, 
and  her  eyes  flashed.  He  had  struck  the  smarting  spur 
too  deeply. 

"  You  are  my  wife,  madam  !  " 

"  Not  your  slave,  sir  !  " 

They  glared  at  each  other  for  a  few  moments,  in  angry 
defiance. 

"  Go  at  your  peril,"  said  Guy,  in  a  husky,  threatening 
voice. 

"  At  a  thousand  perils,  I  will  go  !  "  The  poor,  weak 
frame  of  Mrs.  Guy  was  beginning  to  tremble  under  the 


NOTHING    BUT   MONEY.  125 

pressure  of  excitement  ;  but  her  spirit  was  strong. 
Contempt  of  her  husband's  mean,  cruel,  selfish  spirit, 
more  of  which  was  apparent  to  her  in  his  sentences  than 
any  reader  can  perceive,  made  her  spurn  his  unwarrant 
able  interdiction,  as  though  it  were  a  child's  command. 
"  Content-  yourself  with  deserting  a  friend  in  trouble  ; 
but  don't  ask  me  to  do  the  same." 

"  Silence  !     I  wont  have  such  language."     The  foot 
of  Adam  Guy  struck  the  floor  with  a  quick  jar. 

"  As  you  please,"  was  answered,  and  Lydia,  who  had 
turned  towards  her  husband,  turned  herself  away  again, 
and  bent  down  once  more  over  her  needlework  ;  but  her 
hands  trembled  so  that  she  could  not  make  the  stitches, 
and  so  she  let  them  fall  idly  in  her  lap. 
,  Money  is  a  great  power.  Out  in  the  world,  and 
among  men,  its  selfish  possessor  feels  himself  to  be  a  little 
emperor  in  his  sphere.  He  says  to  this  man,  "  Go,"  and 
he  goeth ;  and  to  that  man,  "  Come,"  and  he  cometh  ; 
and  few  there  be  who  set  themselves  in  opposition  to  his 
•will.  He  feels  that  money  has  invested  him  with 
personal  consequence,  and  that  from  this  comes  obedience 
and  complaisance ;  while  the  truth  is,  men  flow  in  with 
his  conceits,  his  plans,  his  arbitrary  will,  even,  in  the,  hope 
of  advantage.  The  man  himself  is  nothing.  Abstract 
the  money,  and  he  will  be  of  little  more  account  than  a 
sucked  orange.  It  is  at  home  that  these  mere 
money-men  find  the  current  of  their  lives  obstructed  — 
here,  that  baffling  winds  flutter  among  the  sails  of  their 
goodly  ships,  and  bear  them  back  from  promised  havens. 
Women  and  children  are  not  so  easily  managed  ;  partic 
ularly  when  the  rich  father  and  husband,  not  only  with- 


126  NOTHING    BUT    MONEY. 

holds  too  much,  but  exacts  too  much.  He  is  dealing 
outside  of  his  dwelling,  with  material  interests  ;  inside, 
with  human  souls.  Love  of  gain,  of  power,  of  place 
—  all  these  are  potent  ministers  on  the  outside  ;  but,  on 
the  inside,  "  I  wont,"  and  "  I  will,"  clamor  against  him 
with  an  undying  persistence.  He  is  not  wise  enough  to 
govern  these  home  elements,  and  so  sets  them  at  defiance. 
Unceasing  war  is  the  consequence  —  war  kept  up  to  the 
very  last.  The  children  gird  on  their  armor,  and  learn 
to  handle  sword  and  spear  even  from  the  beginning.  As 
they  grow  older,  they  gain  skill  and  strength,  and  the 
time  comes,  always,  sure  as  fate,  when  the  battle  turns 
in  their  favor.  But  alas  !  what  wreck,  what  ruin,  what 
desolation,  mark  the  way,  and  the  final  victory  is  but  a 
final  disaster  to  all ! 

Great  as  Mr.  Guy  found  the  power  of  money  on  the 
outside,  inside  of  his  home,  the  daily  conviction  grew 
upon  him  that  he  was  losing  power.  His  will, 'yielded 
to  in  the  beginning,  was.  often  now  disputed,  the  ground 
being  maintained  on  the  part  of  his  wife,  with  a  per 
sistence  and  success  that  made  him  feel  bitter  against 

O 

her.  In  the  present  contest,  he  was  in  opposition  to  the 
stronger  elements.  The  misfortunes  had  come  upon 
Lena's  old  friend,  and  this  so  quickened  the  sentiment  of 
love,  that  her  husband's  opposition  only  fanned  it  into  a 
blaze.  She  must  see  Lena,  and  the  hand  of  Adam  Guy 
was  not  strong  enough  to  hold  her  back.  If  she  sat 
witli  fingers  too  weak  to  carry  the  needle  —  silent, 
shrinking,  and  trembling  in  nervous  exhaustion  —  her 
will  did  not  give  way  for  an  instant.  Her  heart  was 
drawing  her  towards  Lena  with  the  old  strong  impulses, 


NOTHING    BUT    MONEY.  127 

and  she  meant  to  go  as  she  had  said.  Comprehending 
the  height  and  depth,  the  length  and  breadth  of  con 
sequences,  Adam  Guy  had  power  to  visit  on  her  head,  she 
was  ready  in  this  cause  to  brave  them.  Many  feelings 
that  once  writhed  in  anguish  when  his  foot  trampled  on 
them  ruthlessly,  now  gave  no  response.  Th'ey  were 
dead  —  to  him.  The  bond  which  united  them  was  ex 
ternal  only.  Internally,  there  was  repulsion  instead  of 
attraction,  and  aversion  instead  of  love. 

No  further  word  passed  between  Lydia  and  her 
husband  during  the  evening.  Gruy  sat  for  most  of  the 
time  with  brows  drawn  down,  and  mouth  shut  tightly, 
musing,  scheming,  pondering,  and  miserable  as  he  almost 
always  felt  when  at  home  for  only  at  home  did  he  find  his 
will  thwarted,  and  his  commands  set  at  naught.  Lydia 
passed  the  hours  as  she  usually  passed  them,  with  busy 
hands,  and  oppressed  feelings.  All  the  outreaching  im 
pulses  and  wants  of  her  woman's  nature,  had  been 
crushed  back,  and  lay  bruisedt  broken,  and  helpless, 
against  her  heart,  that  ached,  and  ached,  with  a  dull, 
deep,  unmitigated  pain.  Poor  wife !  The  pleasant 
children  which  had  been  born  to  hope,  in  the  far  away 
years  when  life  and  love  threw  hues  of  rosy  promise  on 
the  future,  had  long  ago  passed  through  fire  to  the  golden 
moloch  set  up  by  her  husband,  and  were  dead  !  Mourn 
ing  them,  her  spirit  refused  to  be  comforted,  but  sat, 
tear-eyed  and  white-faced,  in  Rachel-like  sorrow.  Alas, 
poor  wife  !  Time  can  never  restore  these  lost  ones. 
They  have  faded  from  the  earth,  and  will  return  no 
more. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

* 

N  the  day  afterwards,  Mrs.  Guy  called, 
as  she  had  purposed,  to  see  her  old 
friend.  It  was  a  long  time  since  they 
had  met  face  to  face  ;  and  over  two 
years  since  their  last  exchange  of 
formal  visits.  Her  heart  was  now  full 
of  sympathy,  pity,  and  tender  interest. 
The  misfortune  of  Lena  had  awakened 
old  feelings  that  came  back  upon  her 
like  a  flood.  When  she  reached  the  pleasant  little  house, 
standing  modestly  back  from  the  street,  in  which,  years 
gone  by,  she  had  passed  many  sweet  hours  with  this  dear 
friend,  it  looked  so  poor  and  small  in  contrast  with  her 
own  spacious  and  elegant  home,  that  she  could  not  repress 
a  sigh  for  Lena,  as  she  entered  through  the  gate  and 
moved  down  the  box-bordered  walk  leading  to  the  door . 
Her  hand  trembled  as  she  raised  it  to  the  bell  and  gave 
a  timid  ring. 

"  Is  Mrs.  Hofland  at  home  ?  " 

"Yes,  ma'am,"  answered  the  tidily  dressed  servant, 
who  admitted  her  to  the  Doctor's  office. 
"  Walk  up  stairs." 
"  Mrs.  Guy  hesitated." 
"  Walk  up  to  the  parlor,  if  you  please,  ma'am."     And 


NOTHING   BUT    MONEJ*  129 

the  girl  conducted  Mrs.  Guy  along  the  narrow  passage 
and  stairway  to  the  front  room  in  the  second  story. 

"  What  name  shall  I  say,  ma'am  ?  "  The  servant's 
manner  was  cheerful  and  intelligent.  Mrs.  Guy  handed 
her  a  card,  and  she  retired.  Nearly  five  minutes  passed 
before  Lena  made  her  appearance,  and  in  that  time,  Mrs. 
Guy  had  opportunity  to  note  each  article  in  the  room. 
How  mean  and  meagre  every  thing  looked.  The  carpet 
was  faded  and  threadbare,  and  the  scant  furniture  plain 
and  out  of  fashion.  Only  two  small  pictures  hung  on 
the  walls,  and  they  were  portraits.  A  pair  of  china 
match  boxes,  and  a  small  gilt  candelabra,  composed  the 
mantel  ornaments.  A  pair  of  painted  shades,  considera 
bly  worn,  tempered  the  light  at  the  windows.  How 
painfully  all  this  contrasted  itself  in  the  mind  of  Mrs. 
Guy,  with  the  attractive  surroundings  which,  on  her  last 
visit,  made  so  pleasant  the  home  of  Lena.  She  remem 
bered  the  choice  books  and  pictures ;  the  statuettes  and 
objects  of  taste,  innumerable,  with  which  her  husband 
had  made  beautiful  their  dwelling.  Ah,  how  sad  a  fall 
had  come  ! 

In  the  midst  of  her  reverie,  Mrs.  Guy  heard  the  foot 
steps  of  her  friend,  and  rose  to  meet  her.  In  the 
moments  of  intervening  suspense,  her  heart  almost  stood 
still.  She  had  pictured  a  pale,  sad,  wasted,  and  des 
pondent  countenance  ;  an  almost  hopeless  being  with 
whom  she  could  weep,  but  offer  few  words  of  comfort. 

The  door  opened.  Was  that  bright  Face,  over  which 
smiles  were  sporting  with  each  other ;  those  eyes, 
brimming  with  a  loving  welcome ;  the  face  and  eyes  of 
Lena  Hofland?  Yes,  even  so. 


130  NOTHING   BUT   MONEY. 

"  Why,  Lydia !  This  is  indeed  a  pleasure  !  "  and  she 
came  forward  quickly,  grasping  the  hand  of  her  old 
friend,  and  kissing  her  with  a  heart- warmth  that  made 
the  sluggish  blood  leap  in  new  impulses  along  her 
veins. 

"  Dear  Lena  !  "  said  Mrs.  Guy,  as  they  sat  down, 
side  by  side,  holding  tightly  each  other's  hands,  "  I 
cannot  tell  you  how  deeply  this  misfortune  has  touched 
me.  I  only  heard  of  it  last  night,  and  it  put  sleep  far 
from  me." 

"  What  misfortune,  dear  ?  "  The  sober  hue  that  fell 
over  the  countenance  of  Mrs.  Hofland,  did  not  by  any 
means  extinguish  the  sunbeams. 

Mrs.  Guy  glanced,  meaningly,  about  the  poorly  fur 
nished  room. 

"  Oh,  yes.  I  understand  you.  But,  there  has  been 
no  misfortune,  Lydia.  This  change  is  wholly  volunta 
ry,  and  marks  an  ascent,  not  descent  in  our  fortunes." 

Mrs.  Guy  looked  wonderingly  into  Lent's  face.  She 
did  not  understand  her. 

"  Voluntary,  Lena  ?  "  she  questioned. 

"  Yes,  dear  ;  entirely  so." 

The  eyes  of  Mrs.  Guy  went  wandering  around  the 
room  again,  and  came  back  to  the  face  of  her  friend. 

"  I  do  not  understand  It,"  she  said,  shaking  her  head 
in  a  grave,  doubting  way. 

"  Oh,  I  can  make  it  all  clear.  But  first  put  oifyour 
bonnet,  and  lay  aside  your  shawl.  You  must  make  me 
a  good  visit.  It  is  so  long  since  you  were  here." 

"  My  heart  has  been  with  you,  Lena.  An  old  friend 
is  worth  a  dozen  new  ones,"  returned  Mrs.  Guy,  as  she 
drew  off  her  bonnet. 


NOTHING    BUT    MONEY.  131 

Then  they  sat  down  again,  side  by  side,  and  hand  in 
hand. 

"  Tell  me  about  this  change,  Lena.  It  troubles  me," 
said  Mrs.  Guy. 

And  now,  the  face  of  Mrs.  Hofland  grew  sober,  as 
thought  went  back  to  the  painful  trials  out  of  which  she 
had  just  come. 

"  We  were  in  debt,  Lydia,"  she  answered.  "  Neither 
the  Doctor  nor  I  have  looked  as  closely  to  the  relation 
between  income  and  outgo,  as  prudence  requires.  Our 
tastes  led'our  thoughts  too  much  away  from  the  homely 
economies  of  life,  and  the  result  was,  embarrassment. 
Some  rough  experiences  opened  our  eyes  to  the  wrong 
and  folly  of  all  this,  and  we  made  up  our  minds  to  go 
back  a  little,  and  make  a  new  start  in  the  world.  So, 
we  gave  up  our  house  in  Charles  street,  sold  off  every 
article  that  we  could  do  without,  paid  our  debts,  and 
snugged  ourselves  away  in  this  cosey  little  place.  It 
was  large  enough  for  happiness  once,  and  we  still  find  it 
so  again.  The  burden  of  debt  being  removed,  our 
hearts  beat  to  a  lighter  measure.  No,  dear,  it  was  not 
misfortune  that  brought  us  here,  but  honest  indepen 
dence.  If  the  change  works  any  social  alienations, 
they  will  not  hurt  us ;  for  we  dwell  too  much  in  the 
real  things  of  life  to  be  affected  by  any  new  adjustment 
of  its  unreal  things.  We  look  more  to  hearts  than  faces. 
To-day  has  brought  me  sweet  compensation." 

Lena  paused,  looking  tenderly  into  her  friend's  face  — 

"  What,  Lena  ?  " 

"  Your  return,  darling."     Tears  sprang  into  her  eyes. 

"  My  heart  has  always  held  you  as  a  precious  thing, 


132  NOTHING    BUT    MONEY. 

Lydia.  The  old  love  has  never  grown  dim  —  cannot 
grow  dim  —  cannot  die.  If  we  have  seemed  to  stand 
coldly  apart,  there  has  been  no  coldness  with  me.  Cir 
cumstance,  not  interior  change,  has  come  between  us. 
I  always  felt  that  this  was  so  ;  and  now  I  know  it.  To 
get  back  an  old  friend,  Lydia,  is  to  gain  more  than  I 
have  lost." 

Touched  deeply  by  this,  the  heart  of  Lydia  gushed 
in  tears  from  her  eyes.  She  had  come,  trying  in  her 
weakness,  to  gather  up  strength  to  support  Lena  in  the 
hour  of  darkness  and  trial ;  but  Lena  was  strong,  and 
brave,  and  cheerful.  The  storm,  which,  in  her  fear,  had 
brought  desolation  to  the  heart  of  an  .old  friend,  had 
swept  by  without  harm.  The  garden  of  her  mind  had 
not  lost  a  green  leaf,  nor  a  fragrant  blossom.  Before 
this  calm  strength,  her  own  spirit  bowed  in  tearful 
weakness.  Strong  to  comfort,  a  little  while  before,  she 
was  nerveless  now. 

"  And  how  is  it  with  you,  Lydia  ?  "  asked  Mrs. 
Hofland,  as  she  looked  more  closely  at  her  friend, 
whose  pale,  thin  face,  suggested  bad  health  and  a  mind 
ill  at  ease. 

Tears  filled  the  eyes  of  Lydia  again  :  her  lips  quiver 
ed  as  she  tried  to  answer.  Then  she  hid  her  face 
against  Lena,  and  struggled  with  the  rising  tide.  A  few 
strong  sobs  shook  her  wasted  frame. 

"  Dear  friend!"  murmured  Lena,  kissing  her  fore 
head,  "  God  comforts  ;  God  strengthens." 

But,  thdre  was  no  reply. 

"It  was  not  good  for  us  to  have  held  apart  from  each 
other  so  long,"  murmured  Lena. 


NOTHING    BUT    MONEY.  133 

"  Oh,  no,  no,  it  was  not  good.  But  it  was  my  fault, 
not  yours,"  answered  Lydia,  "  and  mine  has  been  the 
loss.  While  you  have  grown  strong  in  the  life-battle,  I 
have  grown  weaker  —  weaker  —  weaker.  I  thought 
you  had  suffered  misfortune,  and  came  to  offer  the  love 
and  sympathy  that  was  in  my  heart ;  but,  I  find  you  brave 
and  cheerful.  Earthly  storms  cannot  shatter  the  fair 
temple  your  soul  has  builded  —  earthly  clouds  cannot 
darken  its  windows,  Lena  !  With  you  is  the  beauty  of 
life,  with  me  its  desolation  !  " 

"  No,  no,  my  friend  ;  do  not  say  that,"  replied  Lena. 

"  There  is  beauty  for  all  — peace  for  all." 

"  Not  for  me,"  was  sadly  responded  —  "  not  for  me. 
I  have  lost  my  way  in  the  world,  and  something  tells 
me  that  I  shall  never  find  it  again  —  never." 

"  Dear  Lydia  !  How  strangely  you  talk.  Do  not  let 
such  thoughts  haunt  your  soul.  Tormenting  spirits 
have  gained  access  to  your  mind  and  afflict  you  with 
their  dark  suggestions.  Look  up  to  God,  who  is  the 
comforter,  the  enlightener,  the  sustainer.  He  will  make 
a  plain  way  for  you :  He  will  strike  rifts  in  the  cloud  ; 
He  will  bring  you  peace." 

"  Not  in  this  wrorld,  Lena."  Mrs.  Guy  raised  her 
head,  and  turned  a  pale  face,  over  which  a  strong  calm 
had  fallen,  upon  her  friend.-  "  Not  in  this  world,  Le 
na."  She  repeated  the  sentence  in  a  steady  voice. 

"  He  will,  He  will ;  but  you  must  look  up." 

"  I  cannot,  Lena." 

"  Oh,  my  friend,  the  promise  is  to  every  one.  Come 
unto  me  all  ye  that  labor  and  are  heavy  laden,  and 
I  will  give  you  rest.  We  cannot  fall  into  any  state 


NOTHING   BUT    MONEY. 

of  mind  beyond  God's  reach  and  sympathy.  He  came 
down  to  man's  lowest  extremity.  We  cannot  be  in  any 
suffering,  or  darkness,  or  temptation,  through  which  He 
did  not  pass  in  the  Incarnation,  and  out  of  which  He 
cannot  lift  us.  He  knows  our  sorrows.  He  is  acquaint 
ed  with  our  grief —  for  into  his  human  consciousness 
He  received  all  possible  human  suffering,  and  by  subdu 
ing  the  evil  from  which  it  flowed,  changed  sorrow  into 
joy,  and  grief  into  gladness." 

"  It  may  be  so,  Lena  ;  but  I  have  lost  my  way,  and 
cannot  find  it  again.  You  have  one  to  lean  upon  —  I 
stand  alone.  You  have  a  husband  —  I  am  worse  than 
widowed.  Dear  friend  !  —  bear  with  me  a  little,  and 
hear  me  speak  as  I  never  thought  to  speak  in  the  ear  of 
living  mortal.  Delicacy,  honor^  right  —  all,  all,  oppose 
my  speech  —  yet,  only  in  utterance  now,  can  my  poor 
heart  be  saved  from  palsy.  The  sweetness  of  your  life, 
as  I  see  it  now,  has  made  me  feel,  more  painfully,  the 
bitterness  of  my  own.  Lena,  my  soul  is  imprisoned 
and  starving  ;  and  only  death  can  give  it  release. 
Adam  has  shut  the  door  and  turned  the  key." 

"  Oh,  Lydia !  Do'nt  talk  so.  I  shall  think  your 
mind  wandering." 

A  strange  gleam  shot  across  Lydia's  wan  face  —  a 
strange  light  flashed  in  her  eyes.  Mrs.  Hofland  felt 
a  cold  shudder  run  to  her  heart.  The  suggestion  was 
unfortunate. 

"  I  should  not  wonder  if  it  went  wholly  astray,"  said 
Mrs.  Guy,  mournfully.  "  Women  have  lost  their  rea 
son  through  lighter  suffering  than  mine." 

"  This  is  not  well,"  answered  Lena.      "  Let  us  be 


NOTHING    BUT   MONEY.  135 

strong  and  brave  —  let  us  endure  and  be  patient.  God's 
better  time  will  come.  Out  of  much  tribulation  the 
saints  go  upward,  at  last,  white  robed  and  rejoicing." 

But  Lydia  shook  her  head  slowly  and  sadly,  and 
drawing4  a  little  away,  said  —  "  If  you  will  not  hear  me, 
well.  I  can  keep  silent  though  my  heart  break." 

Instantly  Lena  threw  an  arm  around  her  friend. 
"  Dear  Lydia  !  say  on.  Speak  to  me  as  if  I  were  a  sis 
ter  —  nay  ;  nearer  and  dearer  than  a  sister.  I  hold  you 
in  my  heart.  Your  life  is  precious  to  me.  It  is  not  well 
with  my  friend  ;  there  is  darkness  in  her  soul  —  her 
feet  are  moving  along  uncertain  ways.  How  is  it  ? 
Why  has  the  night  fallen  so  soon  ?  Why  have  her  steps 
wandered  ?  " 

"  I  have  no  husband,  Lena !  "  The  tones  struck 
sharply  on  the  ears  of  Mrs.  Hofland.  "  There  is  a  man, 
named  Adam  Guy  who  promised  to  be  my  husband ;  a 
man  to  whose  soul  my  soul  sought  to  wed  itself.  But, 
he  has  turned  from  my  love  and  bound  himself  to  an 
other." 

"  Lydia!  "     Mrs.  Hofland  was  shocked. 

"  It  is  even  so,  my  friend.  Human  love  has  died  out 
of  him.  Gold  is  his  bride." 

Mrs.  Guy  was  silent  for  a  time,  and  then  went  on. 
"  With  Adam,  money  is  the  greatest  good.  Its  love  has 
crushed  out  all  other  loves.  Husband,  father,  friend, 
in  their  true  signification  —  these  are  no  more.  Ava 
rice  has  supplanted  them.  And  I  am  a  woman,  Lena ; 
a  woman,  and  bound  to  this  man  —  hopelessly  bound. 
His  wife,  in  law,  and  the  mother  of  his  children ;  but 
of  no  account  in  his  eyes  in  comparison  with  money. 


136  NOTHING    BUT    MONEY. 

Can  a  woman  bear  this  ?  Can  a  woman's  heart  beat 
against  a  heart  of  gold,  and  not  be  hurt  at  every  pulsa 
tion  ?  I  tell  you  no,  Lena  —  no  —  no  —  no  !  There 
may  be  those  of  our  sex  who,  thus  conditioned,  would 
compensate  or  revenge  themselves  by  license,  or  undying 
contention ;  but  these  are  not  true  women.  A  true 
woman  must  love  ;  rob  her  of  this  necessity  of  her  na 
ture,  and  you  darken  her  whole  life,  as  mine  is  dark 
ened." 

"  Dear  friend  !  "  said  Mrs.  Hofland,  drawing  an  arm 
tightly  around  Lydia,  "  you  have  children.  There  is 
mother-love  as  well  as  wife-love." 

"  Children  !  Yes,  I  have  children  !  "  The  tones 
of  Mrs.  Guy's  voice  gave  Lena  another  shock. 

"  Children  !  "  she  continued,  bitterly  —  "  Have  not 
the  lion's  whelps  the  lion's  tooth  ?  —  Yes,  I  have  chil 
dren  ;  or,  more  truly  speaking,  a  cage  of  young  wild 
beasts,  perpetually  struggling  against  each  other,  in 
whom  the  animal  nature  grows  stronger  every  day.  I 
grow  weaker  and  weaker,  in  contention.  A  little  while 
and  they  will  devour  me." 

"  Lydia,  this  is  dreadful  !     You  are  talkino-  wildly. 

v  O  »/ 

It  cannot  be  so."  Mrs.  Hofland  pushed  her  friend 
away,  and  looked  anxiously  into  her  face.  She  feared 
the  glare  of  insanity.  But,  though  the  eyes  of  Lydia 
were  tearless  and  fixed,  they  gave  back  intelligent 
glances. 

"  I  am  talking  in  sober  earnest,  Lena.  It  is  even  as 
I  have  said.  My  children,  as  they  grow  older,  grow 
more  and  more  away  from  my  influence.  Adam,  who 
is  like  his  father  in  everything,  sets  himself  against  me 


NOTHING    BUT    MONEY.  137 

so  resolutely,  that  I  am  often  powerless  in  my  efforts  to 
move  him.  If  his  father  is  present,  an  appeal  against 
my  authority  is  generally  conclusive.  The  boy  is  both 
avaricious  and  cruel,  and  I  see  these  evils  gainino- 
strength  daily.  All  that  I  can  do,  is  like  beating  the 
wind.  John  is  forever  in  contention  with  Adam,  and 
they  are  growing  to  hate  each  other.  Lydia  throws 
herself  in  mad  antagonism  against  her  brothers,  and 
takes  more  pleasure  in  strife  than  anything  else.  She 
does  not  seem  to  have  any  moral  sense  whatever  —  any 
conscience  —  any  reverence.  And  my  three  younger 
children  are  like  the  elder.  I  do  not  wish  to  live  until 
they  become  grown  up  men  and  women  ;  for  they  will 
either  tear  each  other  like  uncaged  beasts,  or  part  in  un 
dying  hate.  Oh,  to  be  the  mother  of  such  a  brood  ! 
Would  that  I  had  died  a  baby  in  my  mother's  arms  !  " 

Pent  up  feelings  overflowed  their  boundaries,  and 
Mrs.  Guy  fell  upon  her  friend,  and  wept  violently,  for  a 
long  time. 

"  Forgive  me,  Lena,"  she  said,  on  regaining  calmness, 
"  for  having  intruded  things  which  should  have  been 
sacred  to  myself.  I  never  thought  to  have  spoken  thus 
to  any  living  soul ;  but,  there  are  times  of  weakness, 
when  utterance  becomes  a  necessity.  Ah,  Lena,  if  I 
could  have  talked  to  you  of  what  was  in  my  heart, 
years  ago,  it  might  have  been  better.  The  burden  of 
unexpressed  anguish  has  been  too  great  for  me.  I  am 
conscious  of  daily  decreasing  strength.  Mind  and  body 
are  fast  giving  way.  I  feel  weak  and  bewildered  near 
ly  all  the  time.  The  elements  with  which  I  have  to 
contend,  are  too  strong  for  me." 


138  NOTHING    BUT   MONEY. 

"  God  is  strong.      Lay  your  burden  on  him,  Lydia." 

"  I  have  turned  from  Him,  and  He  has  turned  from 
me,"  answered  Mrs.  Guy,  in  a  hopeless  kind  of  utter 
ance. 

"Nay,  nay,  my  dear  friend  !  God  is  an  ever  pres 
ent  help  to  all  who  look  to  him." 

"  That  may  be  so,  Lena  ;  but  we  do  not  look  to  Him. 
Ours  is  a  Godless  house.  No  praying  ;  no  Bible  read 
ing  ;  no  church  going.  We  are  heathen." 

"  I  do  not  wonder  that  you  are  in  darkness  and  be 
wilderment,  Lydia,"  said  Mrs.  Hofland,  soberly  and 
impressively,  "  I  do  not  wonder  that  your  children  are 
growing  up  in  strife.  I  do  not  wonder  that  your  eyes 
look  fearfully  down  the  future.  If  there  is  no  regard 
for  religion  in  your  house  ;  no  storing  of  precious  truths 
from  the  Bible  in  the  minds  of  your  children  ;  no  lift 
ing  of  hearts  upward  in  prayer  to  God,  the  case  is  bad 
indeed.  You  must  try  to  change  all  this." 

But  Mrs.  Guy  shook  her  head,  murmuring,  in  a  weak 
way  —  "I  cannot." 

"  Don't  say  that,  Lydia.  You  can,  if  you  will.  If 
the  older  children  are,  as  intimated,  beyond  your  influ 
ence,  begin  with  the  little  ones.  Save  them." 

At  this  moment  Mrs.  Hofland's  two  oldest  children 
entered  the  room,  quietly,  an  arm  of  each  around  the 
other's  waist. 

"Who  are  these?  Not  your  Lena  and  Frank?" 
said  Mrs.  Guy,  reaching  her  hands  to  the  children,  who 
came  to  her  side  in  a  respectful  way,  and  looked  pleasant 
ly  into  her  face. 

"  Lena  and  Frank,''  replied  Mrs.  Hofland,  as  a  bright 


NOTHING    BUT    MONEY.  139 

smile  lit  up  her  countenance.  "  This  is  Mrs.  Guy, 
don't  you  remember  her  ?  "  And  she  spoke  to  the  chil 
dren. 

Lena  said  yes,  and  Frank  stood  silent,  with  his  looks 
modestly  cast  down.  Mrs.  Guy  kissed  them,  tears  fill 
ing  her  eyes  as  she  thought  how  rudely  and  boldly  her 
oldest  children  would  have  dashed  into  the  room,  had 
she  been  at  home,  and  Mrs.  Hofland  the  visitor. 

Their  entrance  having  interrupted  the  conversation, 
when  resumed,  it  kept  away  from  the  unhappy  subject 
in  which  it  had  dwelt  from  the  beginning,  and  reached 
a  more  cheerful  elevation. 

"  You  will  come  to  see  me,  Lena  ?  "said  Mrs.  Guy, 
as  she  held  tightly  the  hand  of  Mrs.  Hofland,  at  parting. 

«  Oh  yes." 

"  Come  soon." 

"  Yes,  very  soon." 

"  Remember  me  to  your  good  husband.  I  wish 
he  were,  as  once,  Adam's  friend." 

"  He  would  stand  his  friend  to-day,  Lydia,  if  there 
were  any  need  of  service.  If  there  is  a  distance  be 
tween  them,  it  is  not,  I  can  assure  you,  the  Doctor's 
fault." 

"  I  know  that,  Lena.  Adam  proved  himself  unwor 
thy  of  such  a  friend.  Whatever  distance  intervenes,  he 
made  it.  But  we  will  not  talk  of  that.  Good  by, 
dear  !  Come  very  soon.  You  don't  know  how  much 
good  it  will  do  me." 

There  was  a  prolonged,  tightly  given  pressure  of 
hands,  and  then  the  two  friends  separated.  Lydia  re 
turned  to  her  large,  elegantly  furnished  house,  and  to 


140  NOTHING    BUT   MONEY. 

her  husband  who  counted  his  gold  by  many  thousands  ; 
but  returned  with  a  heavy  heart.  It  looked,  in  her 
thought,  more  cheerless,  more  desolate  than  ever,  now 
that  she  had  felt  the  love-warmth  of  Jena's  home. 
She  went,  in  pity  and  sympathy  for  an  old  friend  in 
misfortune,  but  returned,  sadly  conscious  that  with  her 
waS  the  misfortune,  and  with  Lena  the  sunshine  of  a 
true  prosperity. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 


made  by  Mrs.  Guy 

touching  her  home-life,  wrought  a 
painful  impression  on  the  mind  of  Mrs. 
Hofland,  whose  feelings  were  strongly 
interested  for  her  old  friend,  and  went 
out  towards  her  in  a  yearning  desire 
to  give  help,  comfort,  and  strength  to 
bear  up  under  the  heavy  burdens  laid 
upon  her  weak  shoulders.  She  was 
in  her  thought  nearly  all  the  while.  On  the  second  day 
after  her  visit,  Lena  called  on  Mrs.  Guy.  It  so  hap 
pened,  that  Mr.  Guy  had  returned  home  for  some  pur 
pose  late  in  the  forenoon,  and  was  leaving  the  house,  as 
Lena  came  up  the  steps.  Mrs.  Hofland  smiled,  and 
said, 

"  Good  morning,  Mr.  Guy." 

The  merchant  frowned,  nodded  coldly,  and  passed  her 
in  a  rude  manner.  It  was  meant  for  the  cut  direct. 
For  an  instant,  Lena  hesitated  to  ring  the  bell.  But  a 
thought  of  her  unhappy  friend  enabled  her  to  throw  the 
insult  behind  her  as  a  thing  of  no  account.  She  found 
Lydia  with  eyes  wet  from  recent  weeping. 

"It's  the  old  story,"  said  Mrs.  Guy,  answering  her 
questioning  looks  of  Mrs.  Hofland,  and  trying  to  smile 


142  NOTHING    BUT    MONEY. 

indifferently  as  she  dried  her  tears,  —  "  The  old  story 
of  strife  about  money."  And  she  held  up  some  bank 
bills  that  were  crumpled  in  her  hand.  "  I  asked  Adam, 
just  now,  for  a  hundred  dollars  ;  and  here  are  fifty,  just 
half  of  what  I  need.  It  is  always  so.  If  I  ask  for 
twenty,  I  get  ten,  and  hard  words  to  make  up  the  bal 
ance.  I'm  the  most  extravagant  woman  that  ever  lived. 
How  did  I  manage  when  my  whole  income  came 
through  my  needle  ?  —  ha !  So  he  talks.  Money  !  Heav 
en  knows,  I  often  wish  there  was  none  of  it  in  the  world. 
But,  didn't  you  meet  Adam  at  the  door  ?  " 

"  Yes;  but  I  don't  think  he  recognized  me." 
"  Not  recognize  you  !  "       Mrs.  Guy's  countenance 
changed  a  little. 

"  No.  He  passed  me  with  a  distant  nod,  as  if  I  were 
a  stranger." 

The  eyes  of  Lydia  fell  to  the  floor,  and  she  sat  mus 
ing  for  some  time. 

"  How  long  is  it  since  you  have  met  him  ?  "  she  in 
quired,  looking  up. 

''Nearly  three  years." 

"  I  don't  see  that  you  have  changed  in  anything. 
But  he  may  have  forgotten -you.  His  thought  is  so  fix 
ed  on  money  and  business,  that  it  would  be  no  matter 
of  surprise  if  he  forgot  the  face  of  one  of  his  own  chil 
dren  after  an  absence  of  six  months." 

"  How  are  you  ?  "  said  Lena,  after  a  pause,  seeking 
to  get  away  from  this  unpleasant  theme. 

"  About  as  usual,  and  that  isn't  much  to  boast  of. 
But,  I'm  really  glad  to  see  you,  and  must  ask  forgive 
ness  for  so  cold  a  welcome.  I'm  not  always  able  to 


NOTHING    BUT    MONEY.  143 

rally  myself  in  a  moment.  I  wish,  sometimes,  that  I 
had  no  more  feeling  than  a  stock  or  a  stone  ;  that  I  didn't 
care  for  these  things.  But,  woman's  nature  is  weak. 
We  cannot  harden  under  perpetual  blows  ;  but  grow 
more  and  more  sensitive  even  to  the  last  stroke  that 
extinguishes  life.  Again,  I  say,  forgive  me.  The  pent 
up  anguish  of  my  spirit  found  an  outlet  in  the  direction 
of  your  sympathy,  and  I  cannot  close  it  again.  Bear 
with  me,  Lena !  I  know  that  it  pains  you  to  hear  me 
speak  as  I  am  speaking,  but  I  cannot,  in  the  fullness  of 
my  heart,  keep  back  all  utterance." 

"  Look  away  from  what,  in  the  present,  dear  Lydia, 
is  irremediable.  To  bear,  is  to  conquer.  What  we 
brood  over,  gains  new  vitality.  As  far  as  possible,  veil 
even  from  your  own  eyes  the  harder  aspect  of  your 
way  in  life,  and  look  forward  in  hope,  to  some  more 
pleasant  future." 

"  The  future  is  darker  than  the  present,  Lena.  But 
this  is  all  wrong,  I  know.  It  isn't  kind  in  me.  I  shall 
lose  you  again,  if  I  worry  your  mind  after  this  fashion. 
How  weak  and  unreasonable  I  have  become." 

Very  much  in  this  strain  did  Mrs.  Guy  ,talk  during 
the  visit  of  Lena  ;  and  in  parting,  she  wept  bitterly, 
saying  — 

"  I  know  you  won't  come  here  again.  It's  so  wrong 
in  me  ;  but  I've  grown  weak  and  childish,  and  can't 
help  it." 

"  Come  and  see  me  often,  Lydia,"  wa-s  the  kind  an 
swer  of  Mrs.  Hofland,  as  she  kissed  her  unhappy  friend. 
"  I  shall  hold  you  always  in  my  heart.  Let  me  be  as 
your  sister.  Talk  to  me  without  reserve,  if  talking 


144  NOTHING    BUT    MONEY. 

gives  any  comfort,  and  what  you  say  shall  be  sacred  be 
tween  us." 

"  And  you  will  come  to  see  me,  in  return." 

"  Oh,  yes,  often." 

"  You  are  true  and  good,  Lena,  and  may  Heaven 
bless  with  richer  blessings  than  even  now  rest  upon 
your  life,"  said  Mrs.  Guy,  as  they  parted  at  the  door. 

On  the  return  of  Adam  Guy,  at  dinner  time,  his 
first  words  on  meeting  his  wife,  were  — 

"  What  did  that  fellow's  wife  want  here  ?  " 

"I  don't  understand  you,"  answered  Lydia,  coldly. 
"  Of  whom  are  you  speaking  ?  ". 

"  You  know  very  well  of  whom  I'm  speaking." 

But  Lydia  shook  her  head  perversely. 

"  Wasn't  that  Dr.  Honand's  wife  I  saw  at  the  door 
this  morning  ?  " 

"  Lena  called  to  see  me ;  but  you  didn't  mean  her 
when  you  said  that  fellow's  wife  ?  " 

"  I  meant  her,  and  you  know  it.  What  did  she 
want  ?  " 

"  If  y<5u  were  curious  on  the  subject,  you  should  have 
inquired  yourself,"  returned  Mrs.  Guy,  with  ill-disguised 
contempt  in  her  tone  and  manner.  "  So  you  knew 
her  ?  " 

"  Of  course  I  knew  her." 

"  And  passed  her  without  recognition  ?  " 

"I  did,  and  mean  to  always." 

"  Why  ?  " 

"Because  I  don't  like  her  nor  her  principles.  She's 
not  a  true  woman,  and  I  warn  you  to  have  nothing  to 
do  with  her." 


NOTHIXG    BUT    MONEY.  145 

"  Not  a  true  woman !  Heaven  save  the  mark ! 
Pray  draw  a  picture  of  one.  I  would  like  to  have 
your  ideal  above  all  things.  Perhaps  I  might  copy  after 
it." 

"  Oh,  you  can  sneer  !  but  that  amounts  to  nothing," 
retorted  Guy,  rather  impotently.  His  wife's  scorn  grew 
sharper  every  day. 

"  Look  here,  Adam,"  said  Lyclia,  speaking  resolutely 
—  "I  don't  trouble  myself  in  regard  to  your  friend 
ships,  and  I  beg  you  will  not  trouble  yourself  in  regard 
to  mine.  I  have  been  to  see  Lena,  as  I  told  you,  and 
Lena  has  returned  the  visit.  It  shall  be  no  fault  of 
mine  if  the  restored  intercourse  is  not  perpetual." 

"  Very  well,  madam.  Set  yourself  in  defiance. 
But  don't  complain  of  the  consequences.  You  wanted 
a  hundred  dollars  this  morning.  I  understand  it  now." 

"  Lydia,  who  had  been  turning  away  from  her  hus 
band,  wheeled  round,  under  a  sudden  impulse,  and  con 
fronting  him,  with  flashing  eyes,  said  — 

"  What  do  you  mean,  sir  ?  " 

"  I  presume  you  understand  me,"  was  replied  in  a 
cold,  sneering  manner.  "  Where  are  the  fifty  dollars  I 
gave  you  ?  " 

Mrs.  Guy  thrust  her  hand  into  her  pocket,  and  tak 
ing  therefrom  the  roll  of  bank  bills  received  from  her 
husband  a  few  hours  before,  flung  them  into  his  face, 
saying  — 

"  There  they  are  !     Take  them  again.     If  your  soul 
is  made  of  money,  there  are  other  souls  of  better   ma 
terial,  thank    God!      Adam    Guy!  —  Doctor   Hofland 
and  his  wife  don't  want  your  money.     They  are  richer 
7 


146  NOTHING    BUT    MONEY. 

than  you  are,  or  ever  will  be,  though,  you  live  a  thous 
and  years,  and  double  your  possessions  each  year." 

The  money  struck  the  face  of  Guy,  and  fell  at  his  feet 
upon  the  floor.  The  act  stunned  him.  Thei'e  was  a  look 
and  tone  of  defiance  in  his  wife  that  overawed  him  for 
a  little  while.  He  did  not  understand  the  way  to  deal 
with  this  aspect  of  antagonism. 

"  Keep  your  money,  if  you  will,  sir !  "  added  the  ex 
cited  and  outraged  woman.  "  I  hate  the  name  of  mon 
ey.  It  is  an  offense  to  me.  From  this  day,  my  lips 
shall  not  utter  the  word  to  you.  Dole  it  out  as  you 
may,  in  miserly  pittances,  it  will  be  all  the  same  to  me. 
There  is  not  a  woman  in  the  city,  sir,  whose  husband's 
property  reaches,  at  the  utmost,  half  of  your  possessions, 
whose  wardrobe  is  not  twice  the  value  of  mine.  I  have 
been  ashamed  to  appear  in  company ;  but  that  feeling 
is  gone.  The  discredit  is  yours,  not  mine." 

"  Silence,  madam  !     I  will  not  hear  this  !  " 

As  often  before,  when  he  felt  himself  borne  down  by 
his  wife's  indignant  reaction  upon  outrage,  Guy  stood 
upon  authority,  and  commanded  silence. 

"It  wont  do,  Adam  Guy,"  said  Lydia,  with  a  smile 
curling  her  pale  lip.  "  You  may  rob,  but  you  cannot 
silence  me." 

"  Rob  !  are  you  going  crazed  ?  " 

"  Yes,  rob  ;  that  is  the  word.  He  that  withholds 
what  is  just,  is  as  much  a  robber  as  he  that  plunders  by 
force ;  and  meaner,  because  more  cowardly.  Do  you 
understand  me  ?  " 

«  No." 

"  Turn  it  over  in  your  thought  as  often  as  you  turn 


NOTHING    BUT    MONEY.  147 

a  dollar  before  spending  it,  and  perhaps  the  meaning 
will  be  clear." 

"  Your  precious  friend  has  been  giving  you  some  les 
sons  in  duty,  I  see,"  retorted  Guy.  "  A  few  more  vis 
its,  and  I'll  find  the  door  locked  against  me.  After 
ruining  her  own  husband,  she  has  become  ambitious  of 
more  extended  operations.  I'll  send  the  Doctor  a  note, 
requesting  him  to  keep  his  vicious  cattle  at  home." 

"  Happily,  the  Doctor  knows  your  quality,  and  will 
take  the  performance  for  what  it  is  worth,"  said  Mrs. 
Guy,  nothing  daunted  by  the  vulgar  threat.  "  Men 
who  stand  at  his  height,  read  such  as  you  at  a  glance. 
Send  the  note.  It  matters  nothing  to  me." 

Baffled  by  the  coolness  of  his  wife's  scorn,  Adam 
Guy  broke  out  again  into  passionate  command.  Lydia 
fixed  her  eyes  sternly  upon  him  for  some  moments,  hold 
ing  his  gaze  long  enough  to  let  him  understand  that 
she  defied  him ;  then,  turning  from  him,  she  left  the 
room. 

At  his  feet  lay  the  crumpled  bank  bills,  thrown  by 
Lydia  in  his  face  a  little  while  before.  Most  men,  after 
such  a  scene,  would  have  let  them  lie  on  the  carpet,  if 
certain  of  their  being  swept  into  the  street.  But,  in 
his  eyes,  money  was  too  precious  a  thing  to  be  left  in 
any  jeopardy.  So,  stooping  to  the  floor,  Guy  took  up 
the  bills,  and  thrust  them  into  his  vest  pocket,  mutter 
ing  in  an  undertone  — 

"  A  good  illustration  of  the  value  she  sets  upon  mon 
ey.  A  man  might  as  well  pour  water  into  a  sieve,  as 
place  it  at  the  discretion  of  such  a  woman." 

In  spite   of  the  insult  he  had  received  from  his  wife, 


148  NOTHING    BUT    MONEY. 

Adam  Guy  felt  a  secret  pleasure  growing  out  of  her 
declaration  that  she  would  never  again  ask  him  for 
money.  He  wished  in  his  heart  that  she  might  stand 
by  her  threat.  There  was  no  way  in  which  she  could 
inflict  self-punishment  so  agreeable  to  her  husband  as 
this.  Her  demands  for  money,  so  incessantly  made, 
and  so  steadily  resisted,  he  had  always  regarded  as  ex 
cessive.  This  had  been  the  bone  of  contention  between 
them  from  the  beginning.  Always  doling  out  reluctant 
ly,  and  too  often,  in  complaint  of  extravagance,  he  had 
kept  Lydia  so  bare  of  money,  that  constant  application 
became  a  necessity.  To-day,  it  was  two  or  three  dol 
lars  for  a  seamstress  ;  to-morrow,  a  dollar  for  the  wash 
erwoman  ;  the  day  after,  five  dollars  for  market  money ; 
and  the  day  after  that,  a  dollar  and  a  half  for  sawing 
and  putting  away  a  cord  of  wood,  for  which  the  poor 
wood-sawyer  had  waited  two  hours.  So  the  changes 
rung  incessantly.  It  was  literally  true,  as  he  often  al 
leged  —  "  Money  !  money  !  —  nothing  but  money  ! 
The  first  thing  in  the  morning  and  the  last  thing  at 
night.  I  can't  show  mys'elf  without  hearing  the  word 
money  !  " 

He  would  not  trust  his  wife  with  any  large  sum  for 
disbursement.  We  doubt  if  he  ever  gave  her  so  much 
as  a  hundred  dollars  at  one  time  in  his  life.  That  kind 
of  liberality  would,  he  felt  sure,  encourage  extravagance. 
He  must  hold  the  purse-strings  tightly,  and  know  for 
what  use  every  dollar  that  left  his  possession  v\Tas  given. 
No  wonder  then,  that  it  was  "  Money,  money — noth 
ing  but  money."  His  own  act  m/ftde  perpetual  demand 
the  sole  means  of  home  subsistence. 


NOTHING   BUT   MONEY.  149 

Was  Lydia  really  in  earnest  in  what  she  had  said  ? 
He  dwelt  on  her  declaration  curiously,  even  hopefully. 
No  sense  of  shame  touched  him.  Avarice  had  long  ago 
smothered  shame. 

"  We  shall  see ! "  fell  from  his  lips,  as  he  moved 
about  the  room,  conscious  relief  following  the  words, 
"  We  shall  see !  Home  will  become  a  .second  para 
dise  !  " 

The  dinner  bell  rang,  and  Mr.  Guy  stalked  moodily 
into  the  dining  room.  A  side-glance  at  his  wife's  face, 
who  did  not  look  towards  him,  revealed  an  expression 
of  fixed  resolve  not  often  seen  there.  He  was  a  little 
puzzled.  The  meal  passed  in  almost  dead  silence.  As 
for  the  children,  they  read  in  their  parents'  faces 
enough  of  warning  to  induce  orderly  conduct.  Expe 
rience  had  made  them  observant;  and  they  knew  when 
trespass  would  be  visited  by  certain  banishment. 

As  Mr.  Guy  arose  at  the  conclusion  of  his  hastily 
eaten  meal,  he  tossed  the  little  roll  of  bank  bills  across 
the  table,  and  without  a  word,  retired. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 


DEAD  calm  followed  this  scene  of 
contention  between  Lydia  and  her  hus 
band.  One  week,  two  weeks,  glided 
away,  and,  sure  enough,  Adam  had 
not  heard  the  word  money  issuing 
from  the  lips  of  his  wife  —  nor,  in 
^ac^'  many  otner  words.  She  moved 
about,  when  he  was  at  home,  in  a 
silent,  gliding,  ghost-like  .way,  that 
struck  him  as  unnatural.  When  he  spoke  to  her,  she 
usually  answered  without  looking  at  him.  If  her  eyes 
rested  in  his,  their  expression  caused  an  uneasy  feeling 
to  creep  through  his  mind. 

x  "  We'll  see  how  long  this  will  last,"  expressed  Adam's 
thought  and  purpose.  "  A  thing  worth  having,  is  worth 
asking  for."  So,  money  was  not  offered  to  Lydia. 

One  day,  early  in  the  third  week  of  this  new  order 
of  things,  as  Mr.  Guy  sat  in  his  counting-room,  talking 
with  a  merchant  on  business,  a  black  man  came  in.  and 
handed  him  a  note. 

"  Good  morning,  Abe,"  said  the  merchant,  recogniz 
ing,  in  a  kind  way,  the  black  man. 

"  Good  mornin',  Massa  Williams,"  returned  the  negro, 
respectfully. 


NOTHING    BUT    MONEY.  151 

"  What's  this  ?  "  asked  Mr.  Guy,  knitting  his  brows, 
and  speaking  sharply.  He  had  opened  the  note,  and 
read  — 

"  Due  Abe  for  Whitewashing,  $5. 

"LYDIA    GUY." 

"  Missus  guv  it  to  me,  sir.  I'se  done  de  whitewash- 
in'." 

"  Didn't  she  pay  you?  "  demanded  Guy,  not  clearly 
understanding  what  the  due-bill  meant,  and  exposing  to 
the  merchant-friend  more  than  he  found  at  all  pleasant 
to  think  about  afterwards. 

"  Oh,  no,  Massa  Guy.  She  say,  take  dat  to  Massa, 
and  he'll  pay.  The  whitewashing  all  done  fust-rate, 
Massa  Guy  !  " 

"  Why  didn't  you  wait  until  I  came  home  this  even 
ing?  What  did  you  call  here  for  ?  "  said  Mr.  Guy,  as 
he  drew  out  his  pocket-book.  He  was  excessively  an 
noyed,  and  had  not  sufficient  control  of  mind  to  hide 
his  feelings. 

"  Missus  say,  go  to  de  store  !  "  Abe's  white  teeth 
glistened,  as  he  stood  smiling  and  apologetic. 

The  five  dollars  were  paid,  and  Abe  retired ;  but, 
scarcely  had  he  passed  into  the  street,  when  a  stout 
countryman  entered,  and  presented  another  piece  of 
paper.  Mr.  Guy  caught  at  it  in  a  nervous  way. 

"  Due  John  Thomas,  $10,  for  milk  and  cream. 

"LYDIA    GUY." 


152  NOTHING   BUT   MONEY. 

"Who  told  you  to  bring  this  here?  "asked  Guy, 
roughly. 

"  Your  good  lady,  sir,"  replied  the  man,  respectfully. 

"  Henry,  pay  this,  and  take  a  receipt  to  date,"  said 
Mr.  Guy,  looking  round  at  the  clerk  ;  and  he  turned 
from  the  man  with  a  most  ungracious  air.  But,  ere 
the  broken  thread  of  business  conversation  had  been 
fairly  taken  up,  one  of  his  house-servants  entered  the 
counting-room. 

"  What  do  you  want,  Hannah  ? "  said  Mr.  Guy, 
knitting  his  just  relaxed  brows. 

"  Mrs.  Guy  said  ye'd  give  me  my  money,"  replied 
the  girl,  handing  him  a  folded  note.  The  contents 
were  — 

"  Due  Hannah,  one  month  s  wages,  $6 

LYDIA  GUY." 

Couldn't  you  have  waited  until  I  got  home  ?  ;'  angrily 
demanded  the  merchant ! 

"  No,  sir.  I'm  to  send  it  till  Ireland  ;  and  it  must 
go  the  day.  I  towld  her  yestherday  that  I'd  want  it, 
and  she  said,  very  well.  An;  to-day  she  gev  me  this 
to  bring  till  yez,  sir." 

"  Outrageous  !  "  muttered  Guy  to  himself.  "  What 
does  she  mean?  Then  handing  the  due-bill  over  his 
shoulder,  he  said  — 

"  Henry,  pay  this,  also  !  "  As  the  girl,  after  getting 
her  money,  was  retiring,  Guy  called  out,  "  Hannah." 

"  Sir,  till  yez."  The  woman's  voice  was  not  over 
respectful. 


NOTHING    BUT    MONEY.  153 

"  Next  time  you  want  money,  wait  until  I  come 
home." 

"  Maybe,  if  ye  didn't  keep  the  mistress  so  close " 

"  Silence  !  How  dare  you  !  "  Guy  broke  in  angrily 
upon  the  servant's  impudent  retort. 

"  Och  !  An'  yez  may  scrame  silence  till  thim  thot 
cares ;  but  ye  nad'nt  thry  ut  wid  me,  Musther  Guy. 
The  leddy  hadn't  ony  money,  and  she  towld  me  to 
come  here.  No  mighty  harum  done,  I  reckon." 

And  with  this  speech,  the  free-tongued  Irish  woman, 
who  had  seen  enough  of  Guy  in  the  family  to  despise 
him,  flung-  herself  out  of  the  counting-room,  and  made 
quick  exit  from  the  store. 

"  Well,  if  that  doesn't  beat  the  Old  Boy  himself ! " 
said  Adam  Guy,  his  face  flushed  with  shame  and  anger. 
But  the  play  was  not  over  yet.  A  shabbily  dressed 
boy  came  shuffling  into  the  counting-room  a  few  min 
utes  afterwards,  and  standing  in  front  of  Mr.  Guy, 
commenced  operations  on  an  old  pocket  in  his  trou 
sers,  whose  heterogeneous  contents  were  half  re 
moved  before  the  object  of  his  search  was  found.  Guy 
felt  nervous.  Was  here  "  another  cursed  due-bill  ?  '> 
We  give  the  words  he  uttered  in  thought.  Even  so  ; 
for  scarcely  had  the  question  formed  itself,  when  out 
came  a  rumpled  piece  of  paper,  which  the  boy  held 
towards  him,  saying  — 

"  Mother  told  me  to  give  you  this,  and  you'd  pay  it !  " 
^  "  What  is  it  ?  "  Guy  caught  the  slip  of  paper  from 
the  boy's  hand,  and  glanced  at  the  single  line  written 
thereon  — 

"  Due  Aunty  Green,  64  cents. 

"  LYDIA  GUY." 


154  NOTHING   BUT   MONEY. 

"  Here  !  Take  this  back  to  your  mother,  and  don't 
dare  to  show  your  face  in  my  store  again."  Guy  lost 
his  temper  completely.  This  was  the  last  feather. 

"  Good  day,"  said  the  merchant  with  whom  he  had 
been  in  conference.  "  I'll  drop  in  again,  and  talk  over 
that  matter." 

"  Good  day,"  was  returned,  coldly,  and  the  merchant 
retired.  But  the  boy  remained  standing,  with  the  due- 
bill  in  his  hand. 

"  Didn't  I  tell  you  to  be  off?  "  And  Guy  advanced 
upon  the  lad  with  a  threatening  look.  The  little  fel 
low,  however,  stood  his  ground. 

"  Go,  I  say  !  " 

"  Mother  said  you'd  pay  me  sixty-four  cents.  Mrs. 
Guy  wrote  it  down  on  the  paper." 

"  I  shall  not  pay  it ;  so  off  with  you  this  instant !  " 

Two  angry  spots  burned  on  the  lad's  cheeks,  and  his 
eyes  flashed  like  diamonds.  Moving  back,  until  he 
stood  in  the  counting-room  door,  and  in  a  safe  position 
for  retreat,  he  screamed  out  — 

"  Stingy  old  hunks  !  Cheat  a  poor  woman  out  of 
sixty-four  cents  !  "  and  then  ran  off  at  full  speed. 

Catching  up  his  hat,  Mr.  Guy  left  the  store  in  a 
hurried  manner,  and  proceeded  homeward.  Stalking 
into  the  room  where  his  wife  sat  with  two  or  three  of 
the  children,  he  said,  in  a  rough,  angry  voice  — 

"  What's  the  meaning  of  all  this  ?  —  ha  !  " 

"  Meaning  of  what  ?  "  asked  Mrs.  Guy,  without 
evincing  any  surprise  at  her  husband's  manner. 

"  You  know  well  enough  !  "  stormed  the  excited  man. 
"  Don't  put  on  that  weak  pretence  ! " 


NOTHING    BUT    MONEY.  155 

Lydia  dropped  her  eyes  from  his  face,  and  pursued 
quietly,  and  with  a  steady  hand,  the  work  on  which 
she  was  engaged. 

"  Did  you  hear  me  ?  "  The  heavy  foot  of  Mr.  Guy 
jarred  the  floor,  as  often  in  times  gone  by  ;  the  effect 
was  the  same  as  if  his  wife  had  been  a  statue.  There 
was  no  response. 

"  Lydia  !  "  The  voice  was  pitched  to  a  lower  key, 
and  to  a  different  modulation. 

^  Well."     She  paused  in  her  work,  and  looked  up. 

"  Why  did  you  send  them  people  to  me  for  money  ?  " 

"  It  was  due  them."  The  dead  level  of  Mrs.  Guy's 
tone  and  manner  baffled  her  husband. 

"  Don't  do  it  again !  I  wont  have  Tom,  Dick  and 
Harry,  running  to  the  store  after  money.  I'm  surprised 
at  you  !  And  as  for  Hannah,  the  insolent  huzzy  !  — 
can't  stay  in  this  house  another  day." 

Mrs.  Guy  dropped  her  eyes  upon  the  sewing  in  her 
lap,  and  the  needle-hand,  which  had  been  suspended  in 
the  air,  moved  on  again  — stitch,  stitch,  stitch. 

"  Why  didn't  you  tell  me  you  were  out  of  money  ?" 

Mrs.  Guy  gave  her  husband  a  look  so  full  of  a  strange, 
half-understood  significance,  that  his  breath  stood  still 
for  a  moment.  Drawing  out  his  purse,  and  taking 
therefrom  bank  bills  to  the  amount  of  forty  dollars,  he  gave 
them  a  twist  in  his  fingers,  and  then  threw  them  across 
the  room  towards  his  wife.  They  fell  on  the  floor,  sev 
eral  feet  from  where  she  was  sitting.  She  did  not  glance 
towards  them,  nor  pause  in  her  sewing.  Guy,  as  he 
tossed  her  the  money,  turned  away,  and  left  the  room. 

On  the  next  morning,  while  Mr.  Guy  sat  with   the 


156  NOTHING    BUT    MONEY. 

same  merchant  who  had  witnessed  his  mortification  on 
the  clay  before,  in  the  midst  of  a  closely  driven  bargain 
on  both  sides,  a  girl,  wearing  a  sun-bonnet,  and  having 
a  checked  apron  over  a  faded  calico  dress,  came  into  the 
counting-room,  and  said  — 

"  Is  Mr.  Guy  in  ?  " 

"  That's  my  name.     What  do  you  want?  " 

The  girl  opened  her  hand,  in  which  she  held  a  nar 
row,  folded  strip  of  paper. 

"  Mrs.  Guy  told  me  to  give  you  this,  and  said  you'd 
pay  it." 

An  angry  heart-beat,  sent  the  blood  in  red  stains  to 
the  face  of  Adam  Guy.  He  took  the  slip  of  paper,  and 
read  — 

"  Due  Mrs.  Winter,  for  butter  and  eggs,  $7,41. 

"  LYDIA  GUY." 

"  This  is  beyond  endurance  !  What  does  the  woman 
mean  ?  "  exclaimed  Guy,  losing  command  of  himself, 
and  betraying,  in  the  sentence,  a  glimpse  of  the  skeleton 
that  was  in  his  house.  Then  adding,  impatiently,  as  he 
looked  towards  a  clerk  — 

"  Pay  it,  Henry." 

"  See  here,  girl !  "  he  said,  roughly,  as  the  person 
who  had  brought  the  due-bill  was  about  retiring  with 
the  money,  "  don't  bring  any  more  of  them  things  here. 
My  house  is  the  place." 

"  You  needn't  be  so  huffy  about  it,"  retorted  the  girl, 
whose  rough  contact  with  life  in  the  markets  had  made 
her  quick-tongued  and  independent.  "  A  body's  a  right 
to  ask  for  their  own  anywhere.  Mrs.  Guy  said  come 
here." 


KOTHING    BUT    MONEY.  157 

"Off!  Off!"  And  the  humiliated  merchant  waved 
his  hand. 

"  Highty  !  "  ejaculated  the  market  girl,  as  she  moved 
back,  and  glided  through  the  door,  "  what's  to  pay 
now  ?  " 

Amused  glances  passed  from  clerk  to  clerk,  as  they 
looked  after  her,  retiring,  with  a  jaunty  air,  through  the 
store.  Ten  minutes  later,  and  another  due  bill,  for  a 
trifling  sum,  came  in  ;  and  before  dinner  time  three  more 
were  presented.  Guy  was  boiling  over  when  he  reached 
home  at  two  o'clock,  his  dining  hour. 

"  What  did  you  do  with  the  money  I  gave  you  yester 
day  ?  "  he  demanded,  stalking  into  the  presence  of  his 
wife,  and  thus  interrogating  her  before  all  the  children. 

"  I  received  none,"  was  the  cold,  indifferent  answer. 

"  What  ?     I  gave  you  forty  dollars  yesterday  !  " 

Lyclia  merely  shook  her  head,  and  murmured  passive- 

iy,  ; 

"  You  are  under  a  mistake." 

"  Didn't  I  throw  you  some  bank  bills'  yesterday,  in 
this  very  room  ?  ' ' 

"  Did  you  ?  " 

"  Certainly  I  did.      Where  are  they  ?  " 

"  Perhaps  you'll  find  them  on  the  floor,  where  you 
threw  them  ;  they  never  came  into  my  possession,"  was 
the  impassive  answer  of  Lydia. 

"  What !  You  don't  mean  to  say  that  you  left  forty 
dollars  lying  on  the  floor  to  be  stolen  by  servants,  or  swept 
into  the  fire  ?  " 

"  No,  I  didn't  do  any  thing  of  the  kind.  If  so  foolish 
an  act  took  place,  the  folly  may  lie  at  your  door ;  it 
certainly  does  not  at  mine." 


158  NOTHING    BUT   MONEY. 

Circumvented,  Adam  Guy !  This  weak  woman  is 
proving  too  strong  for  you. 

"  Didn't  you  see  the  money  when  I  threw  it  towards 
you  ?  " 

«  Yes." 

"  Well !     Why  didn't  you  take  it  ?  ' 

"  I'm  neither  a  dog  nor  a  beggar,  Adam  Guy  !  If 
you  wish  me  to  disburse  the  family  expenses,  place  the 
means,  in  a  decent  way,  at  my  disposal." 

"  But  where  are  the  forty  dollars  ?  "  Ah  !  Here 
was  the  pinch  !  And  Guy  began  to  look  about  the 
floor.  "  Adam  !  Did  you  see  anything  of  the  money  ?  " 
addressing  his  oldest  boy. 

"  No,  sir,"  was  promptly  answered  ;  and  then,  with 
the  eager  scent  of  a  hound,  this  money-loving  child  began 
hunting  about  the  room.  The  sofa  was  dragged  from 
the  wall ;  edges  of  the  carpet  pulled  up  here  and  there  ; 
tables  and  chairs  moved  from  their  places ;  and  .search 
made  even  in  the  ash  pan  of  the  grate.  But,  to  no 
good  purpose.* 

"  There's  no  use  in  looking,*'  growled  the  unhappy 
man.  "•  Of  course  the  money's  gone  !  swept  into  the 
fire,  or  the  street.  It  beats  every  thing  I've  yet  seen  ! 
No  more  value  is  placed  on  money  in  this  house,  than  if 
it  were  so  much  dirt." 

"  I've  found  it ! "  cried  young  Adam,  who  had 
continued  to  prowl  about,  moved  by  his  avaricious 
instinct,  after  all  the  rest  had  abandoned  the  search  as 
idle.  And  he  held  up  the  little  twisted  roll  of  bills, 
that,  by  some  strange  chance,  had  lodged  in  an 
out-of-the-way  corner  of  the  room,  behind  a  piece  of 
furniture. 


NOTHING   BUT    MONEY.  159 

A  stranger  would  have  thought,  by  the  joy  which 
instantly  made  radiant  the  face  of  Guy,  that  this  sum 
of  money  was  all  he  possessed  in  the  world.  Catching 
the  bills  from  Adam's  hand,  he  opened  and  counted  them 
over  in  an  eager,  nervous  manner. 

"  Are  they  all  there,  father  ?  "  asked  the  boy. 

"  Yes,  my  son ;  fortunately.  Such  outrageous  in 
difference  beats  every  thing  !  " 

Mrs.  Guy  had  shown  no  interest  in  the  hurried 
disorderly  search,  which  had  ended  in  finding  the  lost 
bills,  and  gave  no  sign  of  pleasure  at  their  recovery. 

"  Here  !  "  said  her  husband,  now  thrusting  the  money 
almost  into  her  face.  "  Do  you  see  it  now  ?  " 

But  Mrs.  Guy  did  not  move  a  hand. 

"  Why  don't  you  take  it  ?  "  was  demanded,  in  a  tone 
of  authority. 

"  I've  told  you  before,  that  I'm  neither  a  dog  nor  a 
beggar,  Adam  Guy  !  " 

The  look  that  flashed  out  upon  Guy  from  the  suddenly 
lifted  eyes  of  his  wife,  caused  him  to  move"  back  a  step 
or  two.  The  voice  was  cold  and  steady  ;  but  the  eyes 
had  a  gleam  in  them  that  caused  a  creeping  chill  to  run 
along  his  nerves.  He  stood,  holding  out  the  money  for 
a  little  while,  and  then,  seeing  no  movement  on  the  part 
of  his  wife,  gave  it  a  safe  lodgment  in  his  pocket-book. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 


FTER  eating    his  dinner,  Mr.   Guy 
arose  from    the    table,    and    coming 
round  to  where  his  wife  sat,  laid  the 
money  which  she  had  refused  to.  take 
from  his  hand  beside  her  plate,  saying, 
in  his  ungracious  way, 
"  You  see  that,  don't  you  ?  " 
She  did  not  answer,  nor  touch  the 
money. 
"  Lydia !  " 

"  Well,  sir  ?  "      A  cold  gleam  went  up  into  his  face. 
"  You  see  that  money  ?  " 
"  I  have  eyes." 

"  Oh,  well,  I'm  glad.      Then  you  see  the  money. 
Pray,  don't  let  it  go  into  the  fire." 

"  I  would  suggest  the  same  to  you."     And  Mrs.  Guy 
arose  from  the  table  and  left  the  room. 

"  Did  any  one  ever  see  the  like  of  that,"  muttered 
Guy,  in  a  baffled  way,  as  he  caught  up  the  bills. 

"  She   doesn't   know   the    use  of  money,    does    she, 
father  ?  "  said  young  Adam. 

"  O,  dear,  no !  "  responded  the  father,  in  a  half  des 
pairing  voice. 

"  She'd  waste  and  scatter  faster  than  ten  men  could 


NOTHING    BUT   MONEY.  161 

earn,"  added  the  boy,  drawing  from  his  memory  a  sen 
tence  which  he  had  treasured  from  his  father's  lips. 

"  Yes,  faster  than  forty  men,"  was  answered,  in 
strange  thoughtlessness,  or  indifference,  as  to  the  ears 
that  drank  in  the  words. 

Guy  went  off  to  his  store  without  seeing  his  wife  again. 
A  little  slip  of  paper,  in  the  hands  of  a  colored  man, 
reading  thus  — 

"  Due  Jim  Lane  for  oysters,       -     -     $1.40, 

"LYDIA  GUY," 

pricked  him  sharply  during  the  afternoon,  and  admonish 
ed  him  to  settle  this  question  of  money  on  some  basis 
that  would  be  satisfactory  to  his  wife.  The  due  bill 
annoyance  had  come  to  be  a  source  of  amusement  with 
the  clerks,  who  all  knew  him  well  enough  to  dislike  and 
despise  him  ;  and  more  than  once  he  caught  their  smiling 
interchange  of  glances,  as  the  demands  came  in.  The 
meaning  of  it  all,  they  were  not  slow  in  guessing. 

"  This  has  gone  far  enough,  Lydia,"  he  said,  when 
they  were  alone  in  the  evening. 

His  wife  looked  at  him  without  answering  —  looked 
at  him  with  a  cold  indifference  of  manner. 

"  I  wish  you  to  pay  for  everything  as  you  get  it. 
No  more  of  those  bills  and  due  bills.  It  must  be  stopped 
short  off." 

No  reply 

"  Do  you  understand  me,  Lydia  ?  " 

"  I'm  not  certain  that  I  do." 

"  I  said,  that  you  must  pay  for  everything  as  you  get 
it  —  no  more  of  these  bills  and  due  bills." 


162  NOTHING    BUT    MONEY. 

"  Just  as  you 'please.  It's  a  matter  of  indifference  to 
me."  Mrs.  Guy's  voice  was  at  a  dead-level. 

Guy  gave  utterance  to  a  few  words  of  angry  impa 
tience,  but  they  provoked  no  answer  from  his  wife. 

"  Make  me  out  a  statement  of  expenses,  that  I  may 
know  what  sum  to  supply.  I'm  sick  of  this  working  in 
the  dark  —  this  pouring  out  of  money  in  an  incessant 
stream,  and  seeing  it  disappear  like  water  in  the  sand. 
Here's  a  small  blank  book.  You  must  keep  an  account 
of  what  you  spend.  Set  down,  on  this  side,  all  you 
receive,  and  on  this  side,  all  you  pay  out.  That's  the 
way  to  do.  I've  wanted  this  system  from  the  beginning, 
and  said  so  a  hundred  times.  Now,  I  insist  upon  it." 

He  reached  the  book  towards  Lydia,  who  took  it  from 
his  hand,  and  without  apparent  feeling,  tossed  it  lightly 
into  the  grate  where  a  strong  fire  was  burning.  The 
flames  curled  eagerly  around  it,  and  threw  a  bright  glare 
over  the  room.  Guy  started  to  his  feet,  exclaiming  in  a 
hot  passion, 

"  Madam  !     Are  you  insane !  " 

Three  or  four  hasty  turns  were  made  through  the 
apartment ;  then  the  excited  merchant  stopped  before  his 
wife  and  confronted  her.  She  sat,  with  her  chin  drawn 
down,  looking  up  to  him  with  a  cold  smile  of  triumph 
in  her  eyes  —  a  smile  so  singular  and  unusual,  that  he 
shivered  under  it  into  calmness. 

"  What  do  you  mean,  Lydia?  "  The  question  was 
in  a  greatly  subdued  tone. 

"  Nothing  but  self-protection,"  she  answered. 

"  Self-protection  !  "  Adam  Guy's  lip  curled.  "  You 
are  playing  at  a  bold  game,  madam  ;  and  will,  in  all 
probability,  find  that  you  have  mistaken  your  man." 


NOTHING    BUT    MONEY.  163 

"  As  you  have  found,  already,  that  you  have  mistaken 
your  woman.  But,  we  shall  see  !  " 

Her  tone  was  implacable. 

Guy  endeavored  to  look  his  wife  out  of  countenance, 
but  failed.  There  was  a  new  expression  in  her  eyes 
that  he  could  not  fathom,  and  a  meaning  in  her  air, 
voice,  and  conduct,  that  threw  him  entirely  at  fault. 

"  How  much  money  do  you  want  for  expenses  ?  " 
That's  the  matter  in  hand,  now,"  he  said,  recovering 
himself,  and  coming  back  to  the  theme  uppermost  in 
his  mind. 

"  I  didn't  ask  for  anything,"  replied  Lydia  with  irri 
tating  indifference. 

"  Confound  it  all !  "  stormed  Guy,  breaking  away 
from  all  self-control.  "  Are  you  possessed  of  a  devil  ?  " 

"  Perhaps,"  his  wife  answered.  And  another  gleam 
shot  out  upon  him  from  her  strange  eyes. 

"  Will  forty  dollars  a  week  supply  your  wants  ?  " 
said  Guy,  taking  out  his  pocket-book.  His  manner 
was  changed. 

"  I  have  no  wants,"  she  answered,  with  provoking 
indifference. 

"  Will  forty  dollars  supply  the  wants  of  the  family, 
then  ?  You  know  what  I  mean." 

"  Can't  say,"  replied  Mrs.  Guy. 

"  Can't  you  guess  ?  " 

She  merely  shook  her  head. 

"  Well,  here's  fifty.  That  must  serve,  surely." 
And  Guy  held  the  money  towards  his  wife.  But  she 
did  not  raise  her  head. 

"  Why  don't  you  take  it  ?  "  he  asked. 


164  NOTHING    BUT    MONEY. 

"  I'm  neither  your  slave,  nor  your  dog,  nor  a  beggar, 
Adam  Guy  !  Can't  you  understand  me  ?  " 

Her  eyes  flashed ;  her  cheeks  burned ;  her  pale  lips 
quivered  with  feeling.  Starting  to  her  feet,  with  the 
springy  bound  of  an  animal,  she  stood  with  him  face  to 
face,  in  attitude  and  expression  proudly  defiant.  He 
moved  back  a  step  or  two. 

"No,  I  don't  understand  you,*'  Guy  answered.  "  All 
this  passes  my  comprehension." 

"  I'm  sorry  for  you,  then.  But  you  will  understand 
me." 

"  Why  don't  you  take  the  money  ?  " 

"  Simply,  because  it  isn't  rightly  tendered.  There's 
to  be  no  more  tossing  of  your  dirty  rags  in  my  face, 
Adam  Guy  !  I'm  no  beggar  to  pick  up  your  crumbs  ; 
no  slave  to  accept  your  grudged  offerings  and  be  thank 
ful.  But  your  wife  and  your  equal  in  all  things  ;  and 
as  such,  I  will  be  treated  with  respect,  if  -not  kindness." 

"You  will ! "  Guy  was  recovering  himself.  He 
retorted  with  a  rising  sneer. 

Lydia  raised  her  hand  in  a  warning  way,  and  sent  a 
glance  through  and  through  her  husband.  He  paused 
and  wavered. 

"  Pray,  give  a  formula,  that  I  may  know  how  to  con 
duct  myself."  His  tone  was  slightly  contemptuous. 

"  Conduct  yourself  like  a  gentleman,"  was  the  calm, 
dignified  answer.  "  That  will  cover  the  whole  ground. 
I  ask  for  nothing  more,  and  will  accept  of  nothing  less." 

A  dark  scowl  settled  over  the  face  of  Adam  Guy. 
He  found  it  impossible  to  go  any  further  in  the  way 
across  which  this  new  obstruction  had  been  thrown, 


NOTHING    BUT    MONEY.  165 

and  so  stepped  back  from  it ;  not,  however,  in  weak  ac 
ceptance  of  an  ultimatum,  but  to  scheme  and  plot  over 
the  means  of  getting  it  out  of  his  road.  He  was  too 
strong-willed  —  too  much  in  the  habit  of  compassing 
his  ends,  to  retire  from  this  field.  On  the  next  morn 
ing,  he  again  tendered  money  to  his  wife,  saying,  now, 
in  a  kind,  respectful  way  — 

"  Here  are  fifty  dollars,  Lydia,  for  expenses." 

Mrs.  Guy  received  the  money  with  a  quiet  air,  and 
placed  it  in  her  pocket. 

Three  days  afterwards,  a  woman  who  kept  a  small 
dry  goods  store  to  which  Mrs.  Guy  was  in  the  habit  of 
sending  or  going  for  tape,  needles,  trimmings  and  the 
like,  called  on  Mr.  Guy  at  the  store,  and  presented  a 
due  bill,  signed  by  his  Avife,  for  twenty-seven  dollars 
and  a  few  odd  cents.  On  the  same  day,  the  baker 
dropped  in  with  another  due  bill,  calling  for  sixteen 
dollars.  Guy  paid  them  both,  without  a  sign  of  feel 
ing,  just  as  if  disbursements  in  this  way  were  a  part  of 
his  system.  Already  there  had  been  sufficient  of  mor 
tifying  exposure  in  the  face  of  his  clerks,  and  he  was 
not  inclined  to  lift  the  veil  again.  But,  to  have  due 
bills  to  the  amount  of  over  forty  dollars  presented  within 
three  days  after  giving  his  wife  fifty  dollars,  struck  him 
as  a  calamity.  This  was  indeed,  he  felt,  like  pouring 
water  on  the  sand. 

"  If  I  were  a  millionaire,  I  could  not  stand  this  !  " 
he  said,  in  his  thought.  "  The  woman  is  losing  her 
senses." 

In  the  evening,  Guy  endeavored  to  approach  his  wife 
with  remonstrance  on  the  money  question,  but  she 


166  NOTHING   BUT    MONEY. 

pushed  him  aside  with  a  cold  dignity  that  chafed  him 
into  passion. 

"  Madam  !  "  he  exclaimed,  "  I  will  not  have  my 
goods  wasted  —  my  hard  accumulations  scattered  to  the 
wind  ! " 

Lydia  made  no  response  ;  not  even  so  much  as  lift 
ing  her  eyes  from  the  book  she  was  reading. 

"  Where  are  the  fifty  dollars  I  placed  in  your  hands, 
day  hefore  yesterday  ?  " 

No  answer  —  no  sign. 

«  Lydia !  " 

Mrs.  Guy  looked  up. 

"  Did  you  hear  my  question  ?  " 

She  bowed,  indifferently. 

"  Then  why  don't  you  speak  ?  " 

"  You  have  got  to  learn  another  way  with  me, 
Adam."  Lydia's  strangely  altered  eyes  dwelt  on  her 
husband's  face  with  so  fixed  a  stare,  that  he  felt  the  low 
shudder  which  had  once  before  crept  along  his  nerves. 

"I  shall,  in  all  probability,  take  another  way,"  he 
answered,  a  threat  half  revealing  itself  in  his  tones. 
"  As  just  said,  I  will  not  have  my  hard  accumulations 
scattered  to  the  wind.  Justice  to  myself  and  children 
demand  restriction.  It  seems  that  you  are  bent  on  car 
rying  things  with  a  high  hand.  Nearly  a  hundred  dol 
lars  spent  in  three  days,  and  not  a  word  of  explanation. 
No  wonder  even  your  children  say,  that  you  waste  and 
scatter  faster  than  ten  men  can  earn." 

Mrs.  Guy  started  as  if  stung  by  a  serpent,  a  sudden 
paleness  overspreading  her  face. 

"  My  children,  Adam  ?  "  she  said,  huskily,  and  in  a 
voice  painful  with  surprise. 


NOTHING    BUT    MONEY.  167 

"  Yes,  your  children,"  returned  her  husband,  with 
an  air  of  cruel  triumph. 

"Who  said  it?  What  child?  When?"  There 
was  a  trembling  earnestness  about  Mrs.  Guy,  now. 

"  I  heard  it  with  my  own  ears  ;  that  is  sufficient. 
And  when  things  come  to  the  pass  that  a  woman's 
children  remark  upon  her  wasteful  use  of  money,  it  is 
about  time  for  the  husband  to  interfere  and  save  him 
self  from  ruin  —  as  I  shall  do." 

This  was  too  hard  a  blow  for  Mrs.  Guy.  She  arose, 
without  answering,  and  left  the  room.  In  a  few  min 
utes  she  returned,  and  handing  her  husband  a  small 
pocket-book,  said,  in  a  mild,  yet  firm  voice  — 

"  You  will  find  twenty  dollars  in  that  pocket-book, 
Adam,  the  remainder  of  what  you  gave  me  day  before 
yesterday.  The  due  bills  were  in  settlement  of  stand 
ing  accounts.  In  the  future,  you  must  do  all  the  buy 
ing.  I  shall  waste  no  more  of  your  hard  accumulations. 
What  you  bring  into  the  house,  I  will  dispense ;  but 
not  a  dollar  shall  again  pass  through  my  fingers.  There 
is  such  a  thing  as  going  too  far ;  and  you  have  stepped 
over  the  line." 

"  Don't  play  the  fool,  Lydia,"  said  Guy,  impatiently, 
tossing  back  the  pocket-book,  which  fell  upon  the  floor. 
"  I've  had  enough  of  your  silly  airs.  You're  trifling 
with  the  wrong  man." 

"  There's  no  trifling,  Adam,  as  you  will  find."  Ly 
dia  was  calm,  but  resolute  of  manner.  "  When  my 
children  are  brought  up  as  false  witnesses  against  me, 
it  is  time  that  I  withdraw  from  a  position  that  has  never 
been  satisfactorily  administered  —  and  I  do  now  with 
draw." 


168  NOTHING    BUT    MONEY. 

And  leaving  her  husband,  Mrs.  Guy  went  to  her 
own  room.  She  had  been  there  only  a  little  while, 
when  her  cook  tapped  at  the  door. 

"  There's  no  coffee  in  the  house,  ma'am,"  said  cook, 
on  being  admitted ;  "  nor  any  eggs,  nor  lard  ;  and  I 
don't  think  we've  sugar  enough  for  breakfast.  Shall  I 
run  round  to  the  store  ?  " 

"  No,  Margaret.  See  Mr.  Guy,  and  tell  him  what 
is  wanted.  He  will  attend  to  these  matters  hereafter. 

The  cook  stood  in  unconcealed  \vonder,  gazing  at 
Mrs.  Guy. 

"  Did  you  understand  me,  Margaret  ?," 

"  Yes,  ma'am.     I'm  to  go  to  Mr.  Guy." 

"  That  is  what  I  said.  If  anything  is  wanted  in  the 
house,  go  to  him." 

The  cook  lingered  for  a  little  while,  and  then  went 
slowly  down  stairs.  After  conning  over  the  matter  for 
some  time,  and  wondering  what  it  could  mean,  she  ven 
tured  into  the  presence  of  Mr.  Guy,  who  sat  in  the 
dining-room,  pondering  in  moody  perplexity  over  this 
new  aspect  of  affairs.  The  inflexible  persistence  of 
character,  united  with  something  in  her  looks  and  man 
ner  that  made  him  feel  uncomfortable,  which  Mrs.  Guy 
had  shown  of  late,  admonished  him  that  trouble  was  at 
hand.  Margaret  entered,  and  stood  before  the  master 
of  the  house. 

"  Mrs.  Guy  is  up  stairs,"  said  he,  gruffly. 

"  It's  you  that  I  want  to  see,  sir,"  Margaret  spoke 
in  doubt  and  hesitation. 

"  Well,  say  on." 

"  There's  no  coffee,  nor  eggs,  nor  lard,  sir,  in  the 
house  —  and  the  sugar's  out." 


NOTHING    BUT    MONEY.  169 

Guy  swept  around  in  his  chair  —  he  had  merely 
looked  at  Margaret  over  his  shoulder  —  and  confronted 
her  with  a  look  of  half  angry  surprise. 

"  Mrs.  Guy  bid  me  tell  you,  sir !"  stammered  the  cook. 

"  Mrs  Guy." 

"  Yes,  sir.  I  told  her  about  it,  and  she  bid  me  come 
to  you." 

"  To  me  !     Aren't  you  mistaken  ?  " 

"  Oh  no,  indeed,  sir  !  She  said  that  when  anything 
was  wanted  in  the  house,  I  must  come  to  you." 

"  When  did  she  say  that,  Margaret  ?  " 

"  Just  this  minute,  sir.  I  told  her  what  we  wanted, 
and  she  sent  me  to  you. 

"  For  money  to  buy  them  ?  "  said  Guy. 

"  No,  sir.  She  didn't  say  anything  about  money. 
She  just  told  me  to  come  to  you." 

"  Will  a  dollar  get  what  you  want  ?  "  asked  the  per 
plexed  man,  diving  into  his  pocket. 

"  Yes  sir,"  replied  Margaret. 

Guy  handed  the  cook  a  dollar,  and  then  went  striding, 
in  high  feeling,  up  stairs,  to  demand  of  his  wife  what  she 
meant  by  all  this. 

"  Nothing  more  nor  less,"  was  her  cold  answer, 
"  than  what  I  have  already  declared.  You  are  a  hard 
man  for  a  woman  to  come  in  contact  with,  Adam  Guy 
—  a  hard,  selfish,  iron-hearted  man  !  For  years  I  have 
been  wounded  and  bruised  in  the  contact.  Now,  I  re 
tire  from  the  strife.  Flesh  has  nothing  to  gain  in  react 
ing  upon  iron.  It  must,  sooner  or  later,  become  para 
lyzed.  If  gold  is  your  idol,  worship  on  —  I  shall  be  no 
9 


170  NOTHING    BUT    MONEY. 

priestess  to  keep  the  fires  burning  on  your  unhallowed 
altars." 

It  was  all  in  vain  that  Adam  Guy  stormed,  threaten 
ed,  remonstrated  —  even  persuaded.  Lydia  had  retired 
from  the  strife.  Folding  her  arms  passively,  she  sat 
down,  in  dreamy  introversion  of  state  —  taking  no  care 
or  responsibility  in  her  household,  and  even  becoming 
strangely  indifferent  towards,  and  neglectful  of  her  chil 
dren.  The  whole  care  of  the  household  devolved  on 
her  husband,  who  had  to  order  and  superintend,  as  best 
he  could,  in  every  depai'tment.  In  doing  this,  however, 
he  had  an  intelligent  auxiliary  in  Adam,  his  oldest  son, 
now  in  his  twelfth  year  —  a  boy  who  inherited  from  his 
father  a  strong  love  of  money,  with  the  instinct  of  hoard 
ing.  Guy  could  trust  Adam.  So,  to  this  boy  was  del 
egated  certain  functions  in  the  household.  He  and  his 
father  held  a  conference  every  evening,  and  Adam  ren 
dered  accounts  of  expenditure  in  the  various  depart 
ments  over  which  he  had  control.  He,  also,  in  the  ca 
pacity  of  spy,  kept  his  father  informed  of  everything  that 
went  on  during  the  hours  he  was  at  home  from  school ; 
and  often,  through  the  influence  of  a  morbidly  excited 
imagination,  of  things  that  had  no  existence  in  time  and 
space.  Particularly  was  Adam  sharp-eyed  in  regard  to 
the  conduct  of  his  mother  ;  stimulated  thereto  by  the 
eagerness  with  which  his  father  listened  to  every  word 
that  threw  shadow,  blame,  or  doubt *upon  her. 

So  entire  a  change  in  the  order  of  life,  could  not  but 
prove  hurtful  to  a  mind  already  pushed  from  its  even 
balance.  Mrs.  Guy's  thought  and  care  in  her  household, 
under  all  the  painful  obstructions  that  were  in  her  way, 


NOTHING    BUT    MONEY.  171 

were  far  better  for  mental  health  than  this  dead  level, 
half  forced,  half  morbid  indifference.  If,  in  strife  with  her 
husband,  the  powers  of  an  outraged  and  starved  mind 
were  beginning  to  show  signs  of  failure,  the  abandon 
ment  of  that  strife,  and  the  giving  up  of  all  in 
terest  in  external  things,  was  to  risk  the  most  fatal  con 
sequences.  Lydia  was  not  in  a  condition  to  have  the 
mental  strain  removed.  Safety  was  in  life  and  action, 
even  though  every  heart-stroke  lifted  itself  in  pain. 


CHAPTER  XX. 


ONCILIATION  and  adaptation  were 
not  the  means  by  which  Adam  Guy 
sought  to  gain  any  of  his  ends.  Avar 
ice  is  cruel  and  pitiless,  and  guards  its 
treasure  in  the  spirit  of  a  tiger  with  its 
whelps.  It  feels  that  every  approach 
ing  footsteps  heralds  an  enemy,  and 
crouches  on  the  alert,  always,  ready 
for  assault  or  defence.  No  matter  how 
weak,  or  harmless,  or  innocent  the  intruder,  the  talon 
is  surely  bared  to  receive  him.  It  cannot  think  unsel 
fishly  out  of  itself —  has  no  kindness,  no  mercy,  no  gen 
erous  consideration.  All  mankind  is  its  enemy.  Thera 
is  no  scruple  in  avarice  —  only  fear  of  consequences 
withholds.  Whatever  stands  in  the  way  of  its  ends,  or 
obstructs  as  to  the  means,  must  be  removed  if  within  the 
bounds  of  a  safe  possibility.  It  tramples  on  hearts  as 
if  they  were  stones  in  the  street,  and  is  as  unmoved  by 
tears,  as  by  the  falling  of  a  summer  rain. 

Such  is  avarice,  and  such  was  Adam  Guy.  The 
state  of  his  wife's  mind  annoyed  him,  for  it  was  an  ob 
struction.  But,  it  was  never  once  suggested,  that  this 
mind  was  falling  into  disease  requiring  the  most  skillful 
treatment.  Her  strange  conduct,  instead  of  awakening 


NOTHING    BUT    MONEY.  173 

concern  for  her  reason,  irritated  him.  He  was  angry 
towards  her,  not  tender  and  pitiful.  Thus,  his  treat 
ment  still  hurt  and  alienated  the  unhappy  woman.  The 
sentence,  "  Putting  on  airs,"  fitly  expressed  Adam  Guy's 
appreciation  of  his  wife's  conduct.  He  saw  no  deeper 
than  that.  Avarice  made  him  blind  as  to  any  true  per 
ception  of  another's  state  —  more  particularly  if  that 
stale  was  the  result  of  his  action  upon  the  individual. 

This  sudden  giving  up  of  care  and  responsibility  by 
Mrs.  Guy,  acted,  as  we  might  infer,  very  unfavorably 
on  herself  and  family.  She  fell  into  a  listless,  dreamy, 
wretched  state  of  mind ;  sometimes  weeping  in  her 
room  for  hours ;  sometimes  lying  in  bed,  refusing  to 
answer  any  questions,  or  taking  food,  for  whole  days ; 
and  sometimes  wandering  about  the  house,  seemingly 
bent  on  accomplishing  something,  and  yet  doing  really 
nothing.  Left  almost  entirely  to  the  servants,  the  chil 
dren  did  pretty  much  as  they  pleased,  and  soon  /set  all 
of  their  mother's  occasional  feebly  exerted  authority 
at  defiance.  Adam,  the  oldest  boy,  acting  under  in 
structions  of  his  father,  came  daily  more  and  more,  into 
the  office  of  administrator  in  household  affairs.  He  re 
ceived  a  certain  sum  of  money  regularly,  and  kept  an 
account  of  expenses,  which  was  nightly  examined  by 
his  father,  and  the  cash  on  hand  ascertained,  to  see  if  it 
agreed  with  the  balance  shown  in  the  accounts.  All 
this  was  far  more  satisfactory  to  Mr.  Guy  than  the  pre 
vious  "  loose  way  of  managing  things,"  as  he  called  his 
wife's  mode  of  disbursing  money. 

Mrs.  Guy,  who  never  set  that  value  upon  money 
which  it  possessed  in  the  eyes  of  her  husband,  had  been 


174  NOTHING    BUT    MONEY. 

in  tllfc  habit  of  giving  pennies  and  small  silver  now  and 
then  to  the  children.  Adam  hoarded,  while  John  spent 
everything  that  came  into  his  hands  —  spent  it  all  for 
himself.  Adam  was  a  selfish  miser,  and  John  a  selfish 
spendthrift.  The  new  order  of  things  naturally  tended 
to  bring  in  among  the  children  new  causes  of  strife. 
Adam,  instead  of  their  mother,  had  the  home  distribu 
tion  of  money,  and  in  him  they  found  no  generous 
friend.  Not  a  single  penny  went  to  them  from  the 
closely  drawn  purse,  while  many  a  piece  of  silver,  false 
ly  charged  out  in  the  book  of  expenses,  found  its  way 
into  Adam's  money-box.  Complaints  to  their  father 
met  with  no  encouragement.  His  answer  was,  that 
they  had  enough  to  eat  and  drink,  and  stood  in  no  need 
of  money  to  spend.  Spending  was  a  bad  habit,  and 
never  should  be  encouraged  by  him.  Adam  took  sides 
with  his  father  against  the  children,  and  so  they  learned 
to  look  upon  him  as  an  enemy,  and  to  hate  him  as  such. 
John,  next  in  years  to  Adam,  was  as  strong-willed, 
and  as  dishonorable  at  heart  as  his  brother.  This  sud 
den  cutting  off  of  supplies  was  a  thing  to  which  he  was 
not  disposed  to  submit.  He  had  a  mania  for  spending 
as  decided  as  Adam's  mania  for  saving,  and  the  means 
of  its  gratification  must  be  attained.  Up  to  this  time 
he  had  enjoyed,  through  his  mother,  legitimate  means. 
These  being  cut  of,  his  thought  turned  itself  in  another 
direction.  Adam  had  a  purse,  always  well  supplied 
with  money — the  family  purse;  and  John  reasoned, 
that  he  had  rights  in  that  family  purse  not  alienated  by 
any  transfer  of  possession.  So,  he  determined  to  help 
himself,  at  the  first  opportunity.  But  no  daytime  op- 


NOTHING    BUT    MONEY.  175 

portunities  came.  Adam  guarded  his  trust  with  un 
wearied  fidelity.  Money  was  too  precious  a  thing,  in 
his  eyes,  to  be  left  a  moment  unwatched. 

John  soon  saw  that  only  one  chance  was  left;  He 
must  finger  the  purse  while  Adam  slept.  So,  he  kept 
himself  awake  one  night,  until  his  brother's  hard  breath 
ing  satisfied  him  that  he  was  in  the  world  of  forgetful- 
ness.  Then  he  crept  out  of  bed,  and  taking  the  purse 
from  Adam's  pocket,  abstracted  half  a  dollar,  which  he 
placed  in  one  of  his  pockets. 

In  making  up  his  accounts  on  the  next  day,  previous 
ly  to  submitting  them  to  his  father,  Adam  discovered 
the  deficit,  and  was  greatly  exercised  in  mind  thereat. 
The  cause  was  not  for  a  moment  suspected.  After  try 
ing  in  vain  to  remember  some  unrecorded  expenditure, 
he  went  boldly  past  the  difficulty.  Whenever  he  yield 
ed  to  temptation,  and  dropped  a  coin  into  his  private 
money-box,  the  account  was  made  to  agree  with  the 
balance  of  money  on  hand  by  an  entry  of  some  ima 
ginary  purchase  of  sugar,  coffee,  eggs,  or  potatoes.  This 
safe  method  of  adjustment  came  in,  naturally,  on  the 
present  occasion.  "  Apples  "  bore  one  half  of  John's 
sin,  and  "  eggs  "  the  other,  and  the  boy  went  free  of  all 
suspicion. 

John  had  a  friend  in  the  neighborhood,  with  whom 
he  passed  a  great  deal  of  the  time  not  spent  in  school ; 
and  the  two  lads  managed  to  devour  as  much  cake,  can 
dy,  and  fruit,  as  the  stolen  half  dollar  would  buy.  Had 
the  money  come  fairly  into  the  possession  of  John,  he 
would  have  shared  with  nobody.  As  it  was,  he  felt  like 
transferring  a  measure  of  responsibility.  Not  that  he 


176  NOTHING    BUT    MONEY. 

reasoned  on  the  subject  —  only  a  blind  instinct  of  safe 
ty  influenced  him,  which  was  as  likely  to  lead  into  the 
way  of  discovery  as  concealment. 

Night  found  John's  pocket  empty.  The  half  dollar 
had  melted,  under  his  own  and  his  companion's  greedy 
appetites,  like  snow  in  the  sunshine.  The  means  of  re 
plenishing  that  empty  pocket  were  again  at  hand.  Not 
a  word  in  regard  to  the  first  abstraction,  had  been  said  by 
Adam,  and  it  was  the  natural  conclusion  of  John's 
mind,  that  it  had  not  been  discovered.  So,  he  resolved 
to  take  a  second  step  in  this  guilty  direction.  After 
they  were  in  bed,  he  kept  himself  awake  as  on  the  night 
before ;  but  Adam  seemed  as  little  inclined  to  sleep  as 
himself.  In  fact,  the  loss  of  that  half  dollar  was  troub 
ling  him.  He  could  not  make  it  out.  A  dozen  times 
had  he  gone  over,  in  his  mind,  the  expenditures  of  the 
day,  but  the  missing  sum  could  not  be  acounted  for. 

"  Adam,"  said  John,  after  lying  still  for  half  an  hour, 
listening  in  vain  for  the  deep  breathing  by  which  he  had 
made  him  self  satisfied  of  Adam's  state  of  oblivion  on 
the  night  before. 

Adam  heard,  but,  from  sheer  perverseness  refused  to 
answer. 

"Adam,"  John  spoke  again. 

But  no  motion  or  sound  came  from  his  brother. 

"Adam."  This  time  John  pushed  him,  gently.  But 
Adam  lay  as  still  as  a  log,  though  with  every  sense  on 
the  alert.  Why  was  John  lying  awake  so  long  ?  —  and 
why  did  he  speak  to  him  in  that  hushed  way  ?  The 
very  tone  of  his  brother  set  his  thought  to  questioning, 
and  as  the  half  dollar  was  pressing  on  his  mind,  a  suspi- 


NOTIirNG    BUT    MONEY.  177 

cion  flashed  through  it.  Instead  of  answering,  he  mum 
bled  a  few  words  incoherently,  like  one  disturbed  in  pro 
found  sleep,  and  then  commenced  breathing  in  a  heavy 
way. 

John,  deceived  by  this,  waited  a  few  minutes,  and 
then  got  quietly  out  of  bed.  The  room  was  dark,  but 
light  enough  came  in  from  the  stars  for  Adam's  cat-like 
eyes  to  see  every  movement  of  his  brother.  It  was  im 
possible  for  him  to  wait  until  the  purse,  in  which  he 
carried  the  household  funds,  was  opened.  Enough,  that 
the  hand  of  John  was  in  the  pocket  where  the  treasure 
lay.  Out  upon  him  he  sprang,  exclaiming  — 

"  So  I've  caught,  you,  Mr.  John  !     Aha  !  " 

John  was,  for  an  instant,  in  dismay.  The  trousers  he 
had  taken  from  a  chair,  fell  to  the  floor,  the  purse  still 
in  its  place.  But  he  rallied  himself,  as  he  threw  Adam 
off,  replying  with  affected  anger  and  scorn, 

"  Aha,  what  ?  " 

"Thief!  Robber!  You  stole  half-a-dollar  last 
night !  " 

"  It's  a  lie  !  "  answered  John,  boldly. 

"  I'll  tell  father  all  about  this  in  the  morning,  Mister  ; 
and  he'll  make  you  smart !  I  wouldn't  be  a  sneaking 
thief !  " 

"  If  you  say  thief  again,  I'll  knock  you  over  !  " 

"  Thief"  —  Adam  hissed  back  into  his  brother's  face, 
who  struck  him  in  blind  passion.  Both  lads  now  forgot 
every  thing  in  the  angry  strife  that  followed.  Adam  was 
oldest  and  strongest ;  but  about  John,  when  excited,  there 
was  a  wild  desperation,  that,  on  the  first  outbreak,  bore 
down  all  resistance.  The  blow  with  which  his  blow  was 
7* 


178  NOTHING   BUT    MONEY. 

answered,  aroused  him  to  fury,  and  flinging  himself  upon 
Adam  he  drove  him  backwards  upon  a  chair  over  which 
he  fell  with  a  loud  noise,  and  a  louder  outcry.  This 
brought  Mr.  Guy,  not  yet  in  bed,  to  the  scene  of 
trouble. 

"  What's  all  this  about  ?  "  he  demanded  in  angry 
tones,  as  he  pushed  open  the  chamber  door,  and  let  the 
light  from  a  passage  lamp  stream  inward. 

"  He  called  me  a  thief,"  answered  John,  getting  in 
the  first  defence. 

"  And  so  you  are  !  "  replied  Adam,  boldly.  "  You. 
stole  a  half  dollar  out  of  my  pocket  last  night,  and  "  — 

"  It's  a  lie  !  "  fiercely  retorted  John. 

"  It's  the  truth,"  persisted  Adam,  "  and  I  caught 
you  in  the  very  act  of  robbing  my  pocket  again  to 
night." 

"  Is  that  so  ?  "  demanded  Mr.  Guy,  a  cruel  sternness 
in  his  voice. 

"  Yes,  sir.     It  is  so." 

"  It's  a  lie  !  " 

u  Silence,  sir  !  "  Mr.  Guy  raised  his  hand. 

"Indeed,  father,  it  isn't  true."  John's  voice  changed 
to  one  of  piteous  denial. 

"  Adam,  I  want  the  truth  of  this  matter,"  said  Mr. 
Guy,  turning  to  his  oldest  son.  "  You  say  that  John 
took  half-a-dollar  out  of  your  pocket  last  night." 

"Yes,  sir." 

"  No,  sir.     I  didn't." 

"  Silence,  I  say  !  And  you  caught  him  at  your  pocket 
again  to-night?  " 

"  Yes,  sir.     I  missed  half-a-dollar  this  morning  j  and 


NOTHING    BUT    MONEY.  179 

to-night  I  kept  awake  for  a  good  while  after  I  went  to 
bed.  I  thought  John  was  asleep,  for  he  breathed  as  if 
he  was,  when  he  called  me.  I  didn't  answer.  Then 
he  called  me  again,  and  pushed  me.  But  I  kept  still, 
and  pretended  I  was  asleep.  After  awhile,  he  crept 
softly  out  of  bed,  and  I  watched  him  go  to  my  trousers 
and  begin  looking  for  the  pocket.  At  this  I  darted  out 
on  him  and  he  struck  me  in  the  face." 

Mr.  Guy  waited  to  hear  no  more.  Adam's  story  was 
fully  credited,  John  tried  to  explain  that  he  had  a  cold, 
and  was  after  his  pocket  handkerchief;  but  his  father 
caught  him  with  a  vice-like  grip  and  gave  him  a  terrible 
flogging. 

"  You  stole  the  money  youifelf,  and  lied  me  into  a 
beating,"  said  John,  sobbing  from  pain,  as  he  crept  back 
into  bed  after  his  father  had  left  the  room.  "  But  I'll 
fix  you  for  it,  see  if  I  don't !  " 

"  Fix  away  !  Nobody  cares  for  you  !  "  retorted  the 
hard-hearted  Adam.  "  If  I'd  been  father,  I'd  have  given 
you  twice  as  much." 

Thus  they  snarled  at  each  other  like  two  wild  animals 
until  sleep  overcame  them,  and  both  sunk  away  into 
that  oblivion  of  outward  things  that  comes  as  a  blessing 
to  old  and  young — to  the  evil* and  the  good  —  to  the 
conscience-clear  and  the  innocent. 


CHAPTER  XXI. 


T  is  not  our  purpose  to  trace,  step  by  step, 
the  process  of  demoralization  that  west 
on  among  the  children  of  Adam  Guy 
from  this  period  in  the  family  history.  In 
our  last  chapter,  was  shown  the  first 
workings  of  a  new  system  of  horne- 
adminisfl'ation,  influenced  by  unscrupu 
lous  avarice  on  the  one  side,  and  as  un 
scrupulous  a  love  of  spending  on  the 
other  —  two  powers  in  never  sleeping  opposition  to  each 
other.  Young  Adam,  elevated  to  a  seat  of  executive 
domination,  matured  in  the  one  direction  so  constantly 
stimulated  with  unnatural  rapidity,  while  all  the  children 
regarded  him  with  dislike,  as  a  usurping  and  oppressive 
tyrant,  and  set  themselves  against  him  omevery  occa 
sion. 

John's  love  of  spending  was  in  no  degree  lessened  by 
the  new  difficulties  which  had  come  in  his  \Yay.  Adam 
guarded  the  family  purse  with  a  fidelity  thallRly  permit 
ted  occasional  abstractions  therefrom.  Ihe  amount  thus 
obtained,  fell  so  far  below  what  our  younor  spendthrift 
desired,  that  he  set  his  wits  to  work  in  a  #ew  direction. 
Having  begun  a  dishonest  course,  there  was  no  question 
in  his  mind  as  to  the  right  or  wrong  of  any  scheme  that 


NOTHING    BUT    MONEY.  181 

suggested  itself.  Passing  a  pawnbroker's  on  the  way 
from  school  one  day,  he  asked  Adam  what  kind  of  a 
business  the  man  who  kept  the  shop  carried  on.  Adam 
explained  its  nature,  but,  ere  he  was  done,  the  mind  of 
John  was  grasping  the  general  idea  involved,  and  turning 
over  its  suggestions  of  ways  and  means  for  supplying 
his  empty  pockets.  On  that  very  afternoon,  he  took  a 
breastpin  from  his  mother's  drawer,  and  pawned  it  for  a 
dollar  and  a  half.  The  ticket  received  therefor  was 
destroyed. 

Thus  began  a  course  of  evil  on  the  part  of  this  un- 
guided  boy,  destined  to  involve  his  manhood  in  ruin. 
No  very  long  time  elapsed  before  discovery  and  its  pen 
alties  followed  his  criminal  condilfet.  But,  this  only  ob 
structed  his  purposes,  and  set  his  wits  to  work  in  other 
directions.  Money  still  continued  to  find  its  way  into 
his  pocket,  and  by  means  which,  when  brought  to  light, 
as  was  often  the  case,  subjected  him  to  punishment  and 
disgrace.  Under  this  he  hardened,  so  as  to  endure 
and  grow  defiant,  but  changed  not  in  the  smallest  de 
gree. 

Mrs.  Guy,  after  dropping  the  reins  of  family  govern 
ment,  never  attempted  to  gather  them  up  again.  Now 
and  then,  as  the  appearance  of  sudden  danger  startled  her 
dull  mind,  she  would  grapple  at  the  reins  as  we  sometimes 
see  a  scared^loman  in  a  carriage,  and  put  all  in  greater 
danger.  But,  f*  the  most  part,  she  moved  in  the  house 
hold  as  one  wb,o  had  in  it  only  a  partial  interest,  and  no 
controlling  povwr.  Towards  her  husband  she  main 
tained  a  cold^reserve,  never  intermitted  under  any  cir 
cumstances.  If  he  attempted  arrogant  enforcement  of 


i 


182  NOTHING    BUT    MONEY. 

life  will  towards  her,  she  defied  him  with  an  outflashing 
anger  that  blinded  and  half  scared  him,  like  a  gleam  of 
fierce  lightning.  Money  she  would  not  touch.  He 
laid  it  in  her  way  over  and  over  again;  but  it  remained 
without  appropriation. 

There  was  another  change  in  Mrs.  Guy,  more  re 
markable  than  the  rest,  because  its  source  was  not  ap 
parent.  It  consisted  in  an  entire  alienation  towards 
Mrs.  Hofland.  The  renewal  of  their  personal  inter 
course  had  seemed  to  promise  much  for  Lydia.  The 
healthy,  cheerful,  clear-seeing  mind  of  Lena,  was  just 
the  one  she  needed  as  a  companion-mind.  But,  after 
receiving  a  return  visit  from  Lena,  she  did  not  call 
again  at  the  peaceful  iittle  home  to  which  she  had  gone 
in  yearning  pity  for  her  friend's  supposed  misfortune ; 
nor,  at  Lena's  subsequent  visits,  would  see  her.  Alone 
—  all  alone  as  to  companionship  or  sympathy,  she  sat 
down  in  her  gilded  prison,  and  denied  herself  to  every 
visitor. 

Startled,  at  length,  by  some  more  palpable  evidence  of 
insanity,  the  thought  of  an  asylum  entered  the  mind  of 
Adam  Guy.  Once  there,  that  thought  became  a  perma 
nent  guest.  He  looked  at  it,  dwelt  upon  it,  turned  it  over 
and  over,  and  finally  accepted  the  suggestion  as  pointing 
to  the  easiest  and  most  effectual  way  of  getting  an  obstruc 
tion  removed  from  his  path.  It  is  said  that  "  the  wish 
is  father  to  the  thought ;  "  and  the  proposition  was  no 
doubt  true  in  the  present  case.  Mrs.  Guy  was  a  source 
of  constant  trouble  and  annoyance  to  l\er  husband,  and 
it  was  but  natural  that  he  should  feel  a  desire  to  get 
freed  from  this  unpleasant  accompaniment  of  his 


NOTHING    BUT    MONEY.  183 

daily  life.  If  death  had  glided  in  to  solve  the  difficul 
ty,  he  would  have  accepted  the  fact,  and  bofaed  in  cheer 
ful  submission.  But,  death  was  not  ready  to  attend 
Adam  Guy  as  a  minister,  and  quietly  remove  from  his 
house  the  woman  who  had  ceased  to  be  anything  to 
him  but  a  thorn  and  a  hindrance. 

An  asylum  was  the  only  resource.  Adam  was  not 
wicked  enough  or  desperate  enough,  to  be  in  any  di 
rect  way  an  accessory  to  death  ;  but  in  the  matter  of 
his  wile's  removal  to  an  insane  hospital,  he  could  act 
with  a  clear  conscience  —  we  use  the  word  conscience 
in  a  very  low  and  natural  sense  —  and  he  soon  set  him 
self  deliberately  at  work  t»  compass  this  result.  He 
had  no  trouble,  after  very  exaggerated  statements  of  his 
wife's  case,  in  getting  a  certificate  from  his  family  phy 
sician,  declaring  her  out  of  her  right  mind,  and  a  fit 
subject  for  treatment.  But  the  prune  difficulty  lay  in 
her  removal.  If  she  had  been  in  the  habit  of  ridincr 

o 

out,  all  would  have  been  easy  enough.  But,  Mrs.  Guy 
never  passed  the  threshold  of  her  own  door.  The  idea 
of  force  came  now  and  then  into  her  husband's  thought, 
as  he  grew  more  and  more  impatient  to  get  her  out  of  his 
way  ;  but,  he  feared  to  attempt  this,  lest  there  should 
be  violent  resistance,  and  exposure  in  the  neighborhood. 
Days,  weeks^and  even  months  passed,  after  Guy  re 
ceived  the  doctor's  certificate  declaring  his  wife  a  fit 
subject  for  treatment  in  an  asylum,  and  still  no  oppor 
tunity  for  removal  was  presented.  He  was  growing- 
desperate  under  this  long  delay.  In  his  heart,  Lydia 
was  repudiated  ;  she  had  become  hateful  in  his  eyes  ; 
every  motion  was  an  offence ;  she  was  a  skeleton  in  his 


184  NOTHING    BUT    MONEY. 

house  —  a  death's  head  at  his  table.  Each  act  towards 
her  was  a  studied  wrong,  prompted  by  an  ill-repressed 
anger.  He  sought  to  drive  her  from  incipient  derange 
ment,  into  strongly  denned  insanity,  which  would  make 
forcible  removal  from  his  house  a  necessity ;  but  a  dead 
level  of  indifference  and  contempt  was  her  protection. 

One  evening,  it  was  nearly  a  year  after  the  unhappy 
change  in  Mrs.  Guy's  state  of  mind,  to  which  we  have 
referred,  Guy  came  home  and  found  his  wife  suffering 
terribly  from  neuralgic  pains  in  the  head  and  face.  Her 
agony  was  so  great,  that  she  walked  the  floor  incessant 
ly,  tears,  wrung  out  by  intense  bodily  anguish,  flowing 
over  her  cheeks.  Guy  affected  pity,  though  he  felt 
none,  and  with  a  show  of  kindness,  that  was  but  a  cov 
er  for  a  suddenly  suggested  plan  of  carrying  out  his 
long-cherished  design,  started  off  to  see  their  physician, 
and  get,  as  he  said,* something  to  relieve  her  pain.  In 
half  an  hour  he  returned,  with  a  small  vial,  from  which 
he  gave  his  wife  a  few  drops.  She  knew  it  to  be  mor 
phine,  but,  suspecting  no  wrong,  and  being  almost  wild 
with  pain,  took  the  potion  in  hope  of  relief.  In  ten 
minutes,  a  second  dose  was  administered,  and  in  ten 
minutes  afterwards,  a  third,  which  soon  after  locked  the 
already  obscured  senses  in  a  sleep  that  imaged  death. 

White,  as  if  the  spirit  had  departed,Aay  the  form  of 
his  wife  before  the  face  of  Adam  Guy,  as  he  stood 
alone  with  her  in  the  chamber  where  she  was  now  fully 
in  his  power.  Was  there  pity  in  his  heart  ?  Did  the 
old-time  feeling  come  back  upon  him  ?  Did  he  soften 
in  this  sad  presence  ?  No  —  no  —  no  !  Avarice  never 
softens.  Neither  fire  nor  water  subdues  its  triple  in 
duration. 


NOTHING    BUT    MONEY.  185 

What  next  ?  Adam  could  proceed  no  further  with 
out  help.  He  stood  and  thought — moved  about  the 
chamber  irresolutely  —  stood  and  thought  again. 

For  the  past  six  months,  the  family  had  been  in 
charge  of  a  housekeeper,  towards  whom  Mrs.  Guy 
maintained  an  unwavering  hostility.  But  the  woman 
kept  her  ground,  without  showing  any  ill-will  or  dis 
turbance.  She  was  cold  in  manner,  orderly  in  her 
habits,  and,  while  seeming  not  to  assume  authority  in 
the  family,  steadily  reached  out  for  the  governmental- 
rein,  and  held  it  with  a  quiet  strength  that  overcame 
resistance  not  roused  to  passion  by  a  display  of  power. 
Her  name  was  Mrs.  Harte.  She  was  a  widow,  age 

7        o 

about  thirty-five ;  had  been  a  widow  for  over  seven 
years.  During  her  residence  in  Mr.  Guy's  family, 
there  had  been  no  familiarity  between  her  and  the  mas 
ter  of  the  house,  who  held  himself  aloof  in  cold  digni 
ty,  only  conferring  with  her  in  matters  strictly  limited 
to  her  administration.  The  boy  Adam,  continued  to 
be  the  disbursing  agent.  Mr.  Guy  was  not  going  to 
trust  his  money  in  the  hands  of  any  one  from  whom  he 
could  not  exact  the  strictest  account.  Whatever  opinion 
Mrs.  Harte  might  hold  in  respect  to  Mrs.  Guy's  state 
of  mind,  and  the  causes  leading  thereto,  was  the  result 
of  observation  alone.  Not  a  word  had  passed  between 
her  and  Mr.  Guy  on  the  subject. 

After  nearly  five  minutes  of  debate,  Mr.  Guy  took 
hold  of  the  bell-cord,  and  gave  it  a  quick  jerk.  He 
stood  close  to  the  door,  and  when  a  servant  came,  opened 
it  a  little  way,  and  said  — 

"  Ask  Mrs.  Harte  to  come  here." 


186  NOTHING    BUT   MONEY. 

A  small,  compactly-built  woman,  with  a  gliding  step, 
entered  a  few  moments  afterwards.  There  was  a  clear 
ly  cut  outline  in  every  feature  of  her  intelligent  face, 
showino-  decision  and  firmness  of  character.  Her  com- 

o 

plexion  and  hair  were  light,  and  her  eyes  a  pale,  cold, 
almost  leaden  blue. 

"  What  is  the  matter,  sir  ?  "  she  asked,  in  a  tone  of 
surprise,  as  she  glanced  towards  the  bed,  on  which  lay 
the  unconscious  Mrs.  Guy. 

"  The  effect  of  morphine,"  said  Mr.  Guy,  calmly. 

"  Morphine  !  "  An  expression  of  doubt  and  concern 
came  into  the  face  of  Mrs.  Harte. 

"  She  has  been  suffering  terribly,  with  that  tic  in  her 
face." 

"Yes,  sir  —  I  know." 

"  I  went  round  and  saw  the  doctor,  and  he  sent  her 
this,"  taking  up  the  vial  from  which  he  had  given  the 
medicine.  "  It  has  produced  a  condition  of  physical  in 
sensibility,  as  he  desired.  Poor  thing  !  " 

There  was  a  tone  of  pity  in  the  voice  of  Mr.  Guy. 

Mrs.  Harte  went  to  the  bed,  and  stooping  over  the 
insensible  woman  examined  her  carefully. 

"  How  much  did  she  take  ?  " 

"  Only  three  small  doses.  Her  system  is  not  used 
to  narcotics,  and  has  yielded  quickly." 

After  looking  at  Mrs.  Guy  for  a  few  moments,  Mrs. 
Harte  turned  and  fixed  her  cold,  blue  eyes  on  the  face 
of  Mr.  Guy.  He  saw  inquiry  in  them. 

"  What  is  to  be  done  ?  "  There  was  an  invitation 
to  confidence  in  her  voice  clearly  apprehended  by  Mr. 
Guy. 


NOTHING    BUT    MONEY.  187 

"  Sit  down,  Mrs.  Harte."  The  offered  chair  was  ac 
cepted.  Mr.  Guy  went  back  to  the  chamber  door  and 
turned  the  key.  Then  he  drew  another  chair  in  front 
of  the  housekeeper  and  sat  down.  She  looked  calmly 
expectant. 

"  May  I  claim  your  confidence,  Mrs.  Harte  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir.     I  am  a  discreet  woman." 

Guy  fixed  his  eyes  intently  upon  her.  She  did  not 
betray  a  sign  of  feeling,  nor  turn  away  from  his  her  cold 
gaze  for  a  moment. 

"  You  have  not  failed  to  observe  my  wife's  unhappy 
state  of  mind  ?  " 

"  It  is  too  apparent,  sir,  to  every  one,"  answered  Mrs. 
Harte. 

"  Nor,  that  it  is  on  the  increase  ?  " 

"  Unfortunately,  its  increase  is  undoubted,"  said  Mrs. 
Harte. 

Mr.  Guy  now  took  from  his  pocket  a  folded  paper. 

"  Read  that."     And  he  handed  it  to  Mrs.  Harte. 

"  The  Doctor's  certificate,  I  see." 

"Yes." 

"  Pronouncing  her  insane,  and  in  need  of  treatment 
in  some  Asylum." 

"  Exactly.  And  you  will  see,  by  the  date,  that  I 
have  had  it  in  my  possession  for  several  months." 

"  So  I  perceive." 

"  Forbearing  all  that  time,  and  hoping  all  that  time 
for  a  change  in  her  condition,  that  would  render  need 
less  a  last  resort." 

Mrs.  Harte  sighed  very  naturally,  adding  to  her  sigh 
the  words —  "  Poor  lady  !  "  and  then  shook  her  head  in 
a  hopeless  kind  of  way. 


188  NOTHING    BUT    MONEY. 

"  This  is  a  fair  opportunity  to  have  her  removed," 
said  Mr.  Guy,  comprehending  the  woman's  state  of  ac 
quiescence.  "  She  is  entirely  unconscious,  and  will,  in 
all  probability,  remain  so  for  hours.  Can  I  secure  your 
cooperation  ?  " 

"  If  all  is  right,"  answered  the  woman. 

"  You  hold  the  guaranty  in  your  hand,  Mrs  Harte. 
As  to  the  insanity,  your  own  observation  makes  that 
clear." 

"  That  is  clear  enough,  poor  lady  !  "  said  Mrs.  Harte. 

"  And  the  authority  for  her  removal  is  explicit." 

"  So  I  perceive." 

Then  let  us  act  without  hesitation  or  delay,  both  for 
her  sake  and  that  of  her  children,  over  whom  her  in 
fluence  is  of  a  very  unhappy  character.  My  purpose  is 
to  remove  her  to-night,  and  have  her  safely  cared  for 
before  consciousness  returns.  What  do  you  think  of 
it?" 

Mrs.  Harte  reflected  for  a  few  moments,  and  then  re 
plied, 

"  I  do  not  see,  sir,  that  a  better  opportunity  is  likely 
soon  to  occur.  You  are  certain  that  she  has  not  taken 
too  much  of  the  morphine  ?  " 

And  Mrs.  Harte  gave  Guy  a  searching  look. 

"  Too  much  !  No  !  I  kept  to  the  Doctor's  prescrip 
tion  within  a  drop." 

"  Because,"  added  Mrs.  Harte,  in  her  calm,  clear 
voice,  "  I  do  not  wish  to  get  myself  into  any  trouble." 

"  There  can  be  no  trouble  to  any  one  in  the  case," 
said  Mr.  Guy. 

The  woman's  eyes  did  not  fall  away  from  his  face,  but 


NOTHING    BUT    MONEY.  189 

dwelt  on  it  for  several  moments,  and  with  an  expression 
that  Guy  felt  as  a  kind  of  power  over  him.  He  had 
not,  since  this  woman  came  into  the  family  held  with 
her,  until  now,  any  familiar  or  confidential  intercourse. 
Wrapped  in  his  own  separate  thoughts  and  interests,  he 
had  moved  about  his  house,  only  considering  Mrs.  Harte 
as  a  useful  appendage  in  her  place,  and  of  no  more  ac 
count  to  him  than  any  other  bit  of  domestic  machinery. 
But,  now,  the  relation  had  changed,  and  he  felt  it  — 
felt  it  with  an"  in  ward  sense  of  reluctance  and  repulsion. 

"  If  there  is  entire  safety,  sir."  How  even  and  pene 
trating  her  voice !  —  How  steadily  her  cold,  searching 
eyes  rest  upon  his  face  ! 

"  You  understand  the  case  as  well  as  I  do,  madam." 
There  was  an  apparent  drawing  back  from  the  woman, 
on  the  part  of  Mr.  Guy,  which  was  perceived  on  the 
instant,  and  produced  a  change  in  her  manner. 

"  I  believe  so,  sir,"  her  tone  was  softer  and  more  ac 
quiescent  ;  "  and  if  I  can  serve  you  and  the  poor  lady 
in  anything,  I  stand  ready  to  act.  She  will  be  a  great 
deal  better  off  in  a  well-managed  Asylum.  Where  do 
you  think  of  placing  her  ?  " 

"  Among  the  Sisters  at  Mount  Hop^e." 

"  Ah  ?  " 

"  Yes.  I  have  already  consulted  them  on  the  subject, 
and  shown  the  Doctor's  certificate.  They  are  pre 
pared,  at  any  time,  to  receive  her." 

"  She  could  not  be  sent  to  a  better  place,"  said  Mrs. 
Harte. 

"  I  am  sure  not.  And  my  instructions  will  be  that 
she  receive  the  kindest  and  most  humane  attentions. 


190  NOTHING    BUT    MONEY. 

But,  time  passes,  and  we  must  act  promptly,  if  we  act 
at  all." 

"  True,  sir."     And  Mrs.  Harte  arose. 

"Have  the  children  all  in  bed  before  her  removal," 
said  Mr.  Guy. 

"  The  three  youngest  are  asleep  ;  but  you  will  have 
to  see  after  Adam,  John,  and  Lydia.  If  I  were  to  say 
'go  to  bed,'  they  would  sit  up  half  the  night  in  rebuke 
of  my  assumed  authority." 

"  Very  well.  I'll  settle  that.  Remain  here,  and  get 
all  things  ready  for  her  removal.  After  the  boys  and 
Lydia  are  in  bed,  I  will  go  for  a  carriage.  You  must 
be  prepared  to  accompany  us.  Lock  the  door  when  I 
go  out,  so  that  no  one  in  the  house  may  intrude  and  ob 
tain  a  knowledge  of  what  is  going  on." 

Mr.  Guy  then  withdrew,  and  Mrs.  Harte  turned 
the  key. 


CHAPTER  XXII. 


D 


HE  woman's  aspect  changed  instantly, 
when  alone.  The  cold  eyes  and  face 
flashed  and  gleamed  ;  the  placid  man 
ner  became  disturbed  ;  a  look  of  satis 
faction  —  almost  of  triumph  —  flitted 
over  her  countenance.  Quickly  she 
proceeded  to  the  work  of  changing  the 
garments  of  Mrs.  Guy,  and  getting  all 
things  in  readiness  for  removal.  Now 
and  then,  she  would  stop  and  consider  the  pale,  death 
like  face  before  her,  —  not  in  pity  ;  not  in  fear ;  not  in 
hate  ;  but  with  a  look  of  searching  inquiry,  in  which 
doubt  and  desire  blended.  There  was  a  covert  eager 
ness  in  her  manner,  seen  in  the  unusual  celerity  with 
which  she  hovered  about  the  bed,  and  the  occasional  un 
steadiness  of  her  hands  as  they  moved  over  the  person 
of  Mrs.  Guy.  Her  part  of  the  work  was  done,  long 
before  Guy  was  ready,  or  the  carriage  at  the  door. 

"  Has  she  stirred  yet?  "   was  the  whispered  question 
of  Mr.  Guy,  as   he  came  into  the  chamber,   when  all 
was  prepared. 
"  No,  sir." 

Guy  crossed  to  the  bed,  where  his  wife  lay,  and  stood 
regarding  her  for  a  few  moments.     An  image  of  death, 


192  NOTHING    BUT    MONEY. 

not  life,  was  before  him.  His  heart  gave  a  strong  throb, 
and  he  turned  a  face  of  alarm  upon  Mrs.  Harte.  They 
looked  at  each  other  in  silence  for  some  moments. 

"  Her  heart  beats,"  replied  the  woman,  who  under 
stood  him. 

Guy  took  his  wife's  small,  wasted  hand  in  his,  and 
placed  his  fingers  on  the  wrist. 

"  I  don't  find  any  pulse,"  said  he,  turning  pale.  His 
voice  was  disturbed. 

"  Lay  your  hand  over  her  heart." 

Guy  obeyed  the  suggestion. 

"  Don't  you  feel  it  beat  ?  " 

"No!" 

"What!"  And  Mrs.  Harte  thrust  her  hand  in, 
pushing  that  of  Mr.  Guy  aside.  Suspended  breaths 
marked  the  intense  interest  of  both.  "  It  beats,  sir  ! 
There  !  Put  your  hand  there  ! "  She  spoke  in  a  whisper, 
quickly. 

"  Yes  —  yes.  I  feel  it !  But  how  very  low  and 
faint,"  said  Guy,  as  he  withdrew  his  hand  and  stood 
up,  in  doubt  and  irresolution.  Then  he  laid  his  fingers 
again  over  the  artery  on  her  wrist.  Not  the  feeblest 
thread  of  motion  touched  the  alert  sense  of  feeling:. 

O 

"  You  gave  her  too  much,  I  fear,"  said  Mrs.  Harte, 
letting  her  pale,  blue  eyes  rest  firmly  upon  him. 

The  face  of  Mr.  Guy  turned  still  whiter. 

"  In  that  case  "  —  and  the  woman  made  a  step  back 
wards,  pausing  with  the  sentence  half  finished. 

"  How  in  that  case  ?  "  Guy  felt  himself  already  in 
her  power. 

*'  She  may  not  rally,"  said  the  woman. 


NOTHING    BUT    MONEY.  193 

"  The  Doctor  is  responsible.  I  only  followed  his  pre 
scription." 

"  How  often  did  she  take  the  medicine  ?  " 

"  Three  times." 

"  How  much  did  you  give  her  each  time  ?  " 

"  Only  a  few  drops." 

Mrs.  Harte  crossed  the  room  to  where  the  vial  of 
morphine  still  remained  on  the  mantel  piece,  and  taking 
it  in  her  hand,  held  it  up  to  the  light.  It  was  one-third 
empty. 

"Was  it  full  when  you  received  it?"  asked  Mrs. 
Harte. 

"  No."  But  the  manner  of  his  answer  betrayed  the 
truth  to  Mrs.  Harte. 

"  There  has  been  an  over  dose,''  she  said,  confidently. 
"  I'm  afraid  you  mistook  the  amount  of  vital  power  in 
her  system." 

"  If  there  has  been  a  mistake,  it  lies  at  the  Doctor's 
door,  not  mine,"  answered  Guy,  in  too  apparent  alarm. 

"No  dose  is  marked  on  the  label."  The  woman's 
eyes  turned  from  the  vial,  and  again  dwelt,  searchingly, 
on  Guy's  face.  He  quailed  a  little,  and  she  saw  it. 

"  I  think,"  said  Mrs.  Harte,  speaking  with  delibera 
tion,  "  that  I  understand  the  case,  which  has  assumed  a 
very  serious  aspect.  You  did  not  see  the  Doctor  at 
all." 

Guy  started,  frowned,  and  was  about  to  repel  the  as 
sertion,  when  the  housekeeper  lifted  her  hand,  saying, 
with  perfect  coolness  — 

"  A  moment,  sir,  if  you  please.  If  the  Doctor  had 
ordered  morphine,  the  dose  would  have  been  indicated 
9 


194  NOTHING    BUT    MONEY. 

on  the  prescription,  and  the  druggist  would  not  have 
failed  to  mark  it  on  the  label.  The  truth  is,  you  pro 
cured  the  drug  without  consultation,  and  administered 
it  in  too  strong  doses.  Am  I  not  right  ?  You  had  bet- 

o  o 

ter  trust  me  fully,  if  you  want  my  aid.  I  must  see 
where  I  stand,  and  the  actual  peril  in  my  way ;  before  I 
take  a  step  forward.  You  have  put  yourself  in  a  very 
dangerous  position,  sir." 

A  tremor  seized  the  nerves  of  Mr.  Guy.  The  feeble 
denial  attempted  broke  down  ere  half  of  it  was  spoken- 
He  could  not  go  on,  with  the  cold,  searching  eyes  of  a 
woman,  whose  character  he  was  only  now  beginning  to 
understand,  resting  on  him  like  a  spell. 

"  You  meant  no  harm  —  only  good,"  continued  Mrs. 
Harte.  "  That  I  imderstand  clearly.  But  intentions 
are  out  of  the  pale  of  consideration  now.  Actions  and 
effects  will  only  be  regarded.  In  order  to  get  Mrs.  Guy 
into  a  condition  for  removal  to  an  Asylum,  you  gave 
her  morphine." 

"  The  morphine  was  taken  to  relieve  pain,"  said  Guy. 

*'  Ostensibly.  That  was  the  plea.  The  real  object 
was  to  accomplish  something  beyond.  You  gave  her 
too  much,  and  her  life  is  in  peril.  Now,  do  you  want 
my  assistance  or  not  ?  Heaven  knows,  if  I  consulted 
my  own  feelings,  I  would  pass,  instantly,  from  under 
your  roof.  Say  that  you  do  not  care  for  my  aid  in  the 
matter,  and  a  heavy  burden  will  be  removed.  But,  be 
ing  here,  I  will  not  shrink  from  duty,  if  called  on  for 
help." 

"  What  shall  be  doiiC  ?  "  asked  Guy,  showing  symp 
toms  of  a  helpless  bewildermeill  of  mind.  "  It  will 


NOTHING    BUT    MONEY.  195 

hardly  be  safe  to  remove  her  to  Mount  Hope,  seeing 
that  she  is  sinking  so  rapidly." 

"  No.  She  might  be  dead  before  we  reached  there. 
The  Doctor  had  better  be  called  in." 

"  Is  that  necessary  ?  "  asked  Guy. 

"  Yes.  It  will  not  do  to  make  any  mystery  with 
him.  Let  him  understand  the  naked  facts  in  the  case. 
The  maddening  neuralgia,  and  the  doses  of  morphia. 
Say  nothing  of  course,  about  any  object  beyond." 

'•  Hadn't  I  better  say,  that  she  took  the  doses  her 
self?"  asked  Guy,  actually  trembling  in  the  face  of 
peril. 

"  No.  All  attempts  at  concealment  will  involve 
greater  danger.  Let  the  Doctor  clearly  understand  the 
case,  and  he  will  exonerate  you  from  blame,  and  give 
the  medical  certificate  required  for  burial  in  case  she 
does  not  live." 

Mrs.  Harte  took  up  the  vial  of  morphine  again. 

"  Are  you  certain  it  was  not  full  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  Positive,"  answered  Guy. 

"  The  druggist  may  be  referred  to."  Mrs.  Harte 
looked  at  him  meaningly,  and  he  understood  her. 

A  pause  ensued,  in  which  each  regarded  the  other. 

"  There  is  alcohol  in  the  house,"  said  Mrs.  Harte, 
breaking  the  silence,  "  and  it  will  be  prudent,  I  think, 
to  add  a  couple  of  spoonfuls  to  this  vial.  Go,  or  send 
for  the  Doctor.  I  will  see  that  the  vial  is  replenish 
ed." 

"  Then,  it  is  understood  that  the  removal  is  abandon 
ed  for  the  present  ?  " 

"  Of  course.     That  cannot  be  thought  of  for  a  mo- 


196  NOTHING    BUT    MONEY. 

ment.  The  Doctor  must  be  had,  and  speedily.  Don't 
lose  another  instant,  sir.  Everything  depends  on  promp 
titude  now." 

Thus  enjoined,  Mr.  Guy  went  hastily  out,  and  jump 
ing  into  the  carriage  which  was  in  waiting  at  the  door 
to  remove  his  wife,  ordered  the  driver  to  go  with  all 
speed  to  the  residence  of  his  family  physician.  In  twen 
ty  minutes  afterwards,  the  Doctor  and  Mr.  Guy  enter 
ed  the  chamber  where  the  unconscious  woman  was  ly 
ing. 

"  It  is  too  late,"  said  the  Doctor,  after  sitting  for  a 
little  while  at  the  bed-side.  "  No  human  skill  can  save 
her." 

"  In  heaven's  name,  no,  Doctor  !  Don't  say  that !  " 
And  Gny  exhibited  what  seemed  uncontrollable  anguish. 
"  You  must  save  her  !  " 

But,  the  Doctor  shook  his  head  soberly,  and  then  ask 
ed— 

"  How  much  did  she  take  ?  " 

"  Only  a  few  drops,  sir,  as  you  can  see,"  replied 
Mrs.  Harte,  producing  the  vial.  The  Doctor  held  the 
vial  towards  the  light,  and  examined  it  for  a  moment ; 
then  handed  it  back  with  the  remark  — 

"  The  symptoms  indicate  a  much  larger  dose." 

"  Was  there  no  heart  disease  ?  "  asked  the  house 
keeper. 

The  Doctor  turned  and  looked  at  her  sharply  for  a 
moment ;  but  her  cold  eyes  did  not  shrink  nor  waver. 

"  You  gave  an  emetic,  I  understand  ?  "  He  looked 
from  the  woman  to  Mr.  Guy. 

"  Oh  yes,  sir,  immediately  on  finding  that  she  had 
apparently  taken  too  much." 


NOTHING   BUT   MONEY.  197 

'*  But  no  action  of  the  stomach  followed  ?  " 

"  None  whatever." 

"  What  else  was  done  ?  "  The  Doctor  referred  to 
Mrs.  Harte. 

"  Nothing,  sir.  We  were  so  alarmed  and  confused 
—  we  did  not  know  what  to  do.  The  effect  of  a  few 
drops  was  so  extraordinary.  I've  never  seen  anything 
like  it  in  my  life.  There  must  have  been  some  organic 
trouble." 

An  attempt  was  now  made  by  the  Doctor,  to  give  an 
emetic,  but  without  effect.  Death  was  too  near  and  too 
certain.  In  less  than  half  an  hour,  the  curtain  fell  over 
this  tragedy  of  life,  and  a  weary  head  and  an  aching 
heart  were  forever  at  rest. 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

HE  Doctor  was  not  satisfied  in  regard 
to  the  death  of  Mrs.  Guy  ;  yet  there 
was  no  evidence  of  foul  play,  and  he 
pushed  aside  the  doubtful  questions 
that  kept  intruding  themselves.  His 
certificate,  in  the  usual  form,  made  all 
plain  for  the  burial,  and  left  no  room 
for  suspicion  to  take  any  dangerous  as 
pect  in  the  public  mind.  People  talked 
as  they  always  will  talk  when  there  is  a  shadow  of  mys 
tery,  and  many  idle  stories  were  whispered  around  ;  but, 
the  real  truth  did  not  transpire. 

For  a  time,  Adam  Guy  felt  a  sense  of  freedom.  An 
obstruction,  which  had  hindered  and  annoyed  him  for 
years,  was  removed.  He  was  master  of  the  position 
once  more.  His  will  could  go  forth  unquestioned  at 
home  as  well  as  abroad.  But,  soon,  he  became  aware 
of  a  presence  in  the  house  that  touched  his  freedom 
more  vitally  than  it  had  ever  been  touched.  That 
presence,  though  neither  demonstrative,  nor  obtrusive, 
became  more  and  more  palpable  as  a  fixed  fact.  The 
quiet,  self-possessed,  cold,  orderly  housekeeper,  sat  at 
his  table  every  day,  silent  for  the  most  part ;  and  moved 
through  his  home  with  a  power  of  subjugation  that 


NOTHING    BUT    MONEY.  199 

rarely  provoked  resistance,  yet  steadily  intruded  itself, 
gathering  up  the  reins  of  government,  and  preparing  to 
hold  its  place  with  a  strong  hand  when  the  time  for 
throwing  off  the  mask  came. 

Adam  Guy  was  in  the  power  of  this  woman ;  and  he 
began  to  have  an  unpleasant  consciousness  that  she 
meant  to  use  the  power  in  some  way,  to  her  own  ad 
vantage.  She  did  not  seem  to  have  a  will  of  her  own 
in  the  family,  and  yet,  Guy  saw  new  movements  going 
on  in  the  order  of  things  which  no  hand  but  hers  direct 
ed.  Occasionally,  she  would  suggest  a  change  in  pres 
ence  of  the  children,  which  brought  from  them  opposi 
tion  or  remonstrance.  She  did  not  argue  the  case,  nor 
show  special  interest  in  the  mattter  —  but,  it  usually 
happened,  that  Mr.  Guy  came  over  to  her  side  ;  not 
because  he  saw  clearly  any  special  value  in  the  changes 
proposed,  but  from  an  indefinable  impression  of  pow 
er  that  he  did  not  feel  willing  to  oppose.  Rebellion, 
however,  soon  began  to  lift  its  head  among  the  children, 
to  whom,  during  their  mother's  life-time,  the  housekeep 
er  had  yielded  with  a  skill  or  passiveness  that  rarely  pro 
voked  opposition.  Not  until  she  had  a  firm  grasp  upon 
the  rein,  did  Mrs.  Harte  begin  to  draw  upon  it  so  stead 
ily  as  to  make  the  pressure  felt.  The  father  was  in  her 
toils,  and  she  would  now  reduce  the  children  to  obedi 
ence.  But  the  task,  in  this  case,  was  more  difficult. 
She  had  no  command  of  their  fears.  There  was  not  in 
their  hearts  a  fatal  secret  to  which  her  finger  ever 
pointed  in  warning.  When  they  looked  into  her  face, 
they  did  not  see  "  Beware  !  "  fluttering  on  her  lips. 

Adam  had  always  treated  her  in  a  half  insolent  way 


200  NOTHING    BUT   MONEY. 

as  if  she  were  inferior  and  of  little  account ;  and  usually 
took  pains  to  give  things  a  direction,  if  possible,  adverse 
to  her  wishes.  This  he  was  able  to  do,  in  consequence 
of  his  position  as  purse-bearer  and  account-keeper  for 
the  family.  From  this  position,  Mrs.  Harte  meant  to 
have  him  removed  ;  but,  she  was  in  no  haste.  First  of 
all,  she  must  be  well  seated.  There  must  be  no  doubt 
as  to  her  influence  over  Mr.  Guy. 

"  How  much  do  you  ffive  Adam  for  housekeeping 
purposes?"  She  put  the  question  one  evening  when 
they  sat  alone  together.  Mr.  Guy  had  no  intimate 
acquaintances,  and  so  went  out  in  the  evening  but  rarely. 
Mrs.  Harte  had  him,  therefore,  so  much  in  her  power  ; 
and  in  the  most  unobtrusive  and  unapparent  way, 
managed  to  interest  some  of  the  lonely  hours  he  spent 
at  home. 

4t  Twenty  dollars  a  week,"  answered  Mr.  Guy. 

Mrs,  Harte  looked  down  at  the  work  in  her  hands, 
and  remained  silent. 

"  Why  do  you  ask  ?  "  After  a  pause  of  nearly  a 
minute,  Mr.  Guy  put  this  question.  He  had  been 
waiting  all  that  time  for  the  housekeeper ;  but  she  did 
not  seem  inclined  to  any  further  remark. 

"  Adam  manages  things  very  well  for  a  boy  —  better, 
probably,  than  one  boy  in  a  dozen  could  manage.  Still, 
he  is  only  a  boy,  and  cannot  be  expected  to  understand 
the  requirements  of  a  household  like  this.  Twenty 
dollars  a  week,  if  spent  with  judgment,  should  go  farther 
than  he  makes  it  go." 

Mr.  Guy  did  not  answer.  He  felt  a  shade  of  per 
plexity  coming  over  his  mind. 


NOTHING    BUT    MONEY.  201 

"  It  is  nothing  to  me,  of  course,"  resumed  Mrs.  Harte. 
"  I  only  express  a  passing  thought.  Another  thino-  I 
have  observed  is  this.  The  position  occupied  hy  Adam, 
puts  him  in  a  kind  of  forced  antagonism  towards  the 
other  children.  Between  him  and  John  there  is  a  con 
stant  feud,  growing  mainly  out  of  the  fact  that  Adam's 
will  regulates  much  in  the  family.  He  markets  to  suit 
his  own  tastes  and  whims  ;  and,  I  observe,  takes  pains  to 
omit  buying  the  very  articles  for  which  John  and  Lydia 
manifest  a  preference.  If  it  goes  on,  a  permanent 
alienation  between  him  and  the  other  children,  as  they 
grow  up,  will  assuredly  take  place ;  and,  of  all  things, 
this  should  be  guarded  against  as  the  worst  of  evils." 

"  Is  that  so  ?  Does  Adam  really  annoy  his  brothers 
and  sisters  in  the  way  you  intimate  ?  "  said  Mr.  Guy. 

"•  Have  they  never  complained  ?  "  asked  Mrs.  Harte. 

"  O  yes.  They're  always  complaining.  But  I'm 
used  to  that,  and  pay  little  heed  to  what  they  say." 

"  They  have  cause."  The  housekeeper's  voice  had  g, 
shade  more  of  feeling.  After  a  moment  she  added, 

*'  One  child  in  a  family  should  not  have  as  much 
power  over  the  other  children  as  Adam  now  possesses. 
He  does  not  know  how  to  rule  wisely  ;  and  they  live 
daily  in  a  state  of  half  angry  rebellion  against  him. 
Besides,  sir,  the  boy's  mind  should  be  educated  towards 
a  man's  duties  in  life,  and  not  towards  a  woman's. 
You  design  him  for  regular  business  —  for  a  merchant, 
like  yourself —  not  a  boarding-house  keeper.  His  pres 
ent  office  at  home  is  not,  therefore,  good  for  him.  It 
will  belittle  his  mind  —  narrow  it  down  to  the  smallest 
things  —  incapacitate  him  for  the  larger  sphere  in  which 
9* 


202  NOTHING    BUT   MONEY. 

you  look  to  see  him  move.  But,  excuse  me,  sir,  for 
this  freedom  of  speech.  I  have  been  led  to  say  more 
than  I  intended." 

"  There  is  reason  in  what  you  urge,"  returned  Mr. 
Guy,  "  and  I  must  think  it  over.  Adam  is  a  little  in 
clined  to  be  overbearing,  I  know ;  but,  as  affairs  have 
been,  I  could  do  no  better  than  place  things  in  his 
hands ;  and,  all  circumstances  considered,  it  seems  to 
me  that  he  has  managed  admirably.  Not  one  boy  in 
ten  would  have  done  so  well," 

"  Probably  not  one  in  a  hundred,"  answered  Mrs. 
Harte. 

And  there  the  conversation  dropped.  But  Mr.  Guy 
understood  his  housekeeper.  She  was  not  satisfied  to 
remain  any  longer  subject  to  the  will  and  direction  of 
a  boy.  He  must  pass  out  of  her  way. 

Mr.  Guy  did  not  act  immediately  on  the  suggestion 
of  Mrs.  Harte.  Too  much  was  involved  in  this.  It 
included  the  fact  of  a  new  disbursing  agent  in  the 
household,  and  that  agent  the  lady  herself.  Would  it 
be  wise  to  admit  her  to  this  place  of  power  ?  Over, 
and  over,  and  over  again  the  question  was  revolved,  and 
yet  without  decision.  In  the  meantime,  Mrs.  Harte, 
from  behind  the  screen  of  an  unimpassioned  exterior, 
watched,  eagle-eyed,  the  progress  of  things,  drawing  all 
the  \yhile  a  little  and  a  little  more  firmly  on  the  reins 
of  government  that  were  in  her  hands. 

"  Adam,"  said  she,  one  morning,  as  the  boy  passed 
her  in  the  hall,  She  knew  that  it  was  market  day. 

He  stopped,  turning  his  head  partly  towards  her,  with 
an  air  of  indifference. 


NOTHING   BUT    MONEY.  203 

"  Are  you  going  to  market  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  I  wish  you  would  get  a  pair  of  chickens  for  to-day's 
dinner." 

"I  shall  get  corned  beef;"  was  almost  insolently 
answered. 

"•  Oh,  very  well."  And  Mrs.  Harte  turned  from 
him  in  her  calm,  quiet  way.  An  observer  would  have 
detected  no  indication  of  a  quicker  heart-throb. 

At  dinner  time,  Mrs.  Harte  said,  speaking  across  the 
table  to  Mr.  Guy  — 

"  I  asked  Adam  to  get  a  pair  of  chickens  for  dinner 
to-day."  Her  tones  were  cold  and  even. 

Mr.  Guy  turned  his  eyes  on  Adam,  whose  face  col 
ored  a  little. 

"  Why  didn't  you  do  as  Mrs.  Harte  desired  ?  "  The 
boy  was  not  prepared  for  the  sternness  with  which  this 
question  was  asked,  and  stammered  out  an  unsatisfacto 
ry  reply. 

"  Don't  let  it  occur  again."  Mr.  Guy  spoke  in  ear 
nest. 

No  more  was  said  at  the  time  ;  but  the  spirit  destined 
to  rule  in  that  house  had  gained  a  victory,  and  soon 
every  inmate  had  an  impression  of  the  fact.  It  took 
only  a  week  or  two  from  this  time  for  Mrs.  Harte  to 
bring  Adam  to  the  position  of  a  mere  agent  of  her  will 
in  the  household  administration.  He  bought  as  she 
gave  direction,  being  little  more  than  purse-bearer. 
There  were  no  contentions  between  him  and  Mrs.  Harte. 
If  he  rebelled,  and  was  insolent,  she  did  not  stoop  to 
his  level,  but,  with  subtle  management,  turned  his  fa- 


204  NOTHING   BUT    MONEY. 

ther's  iron  hand  upon  him.  In  six  months  after  the 
death  of  Mrs.  Guy,  the  housekeeper's  will  was  supreme 
in  the  family  where  wife  and  mother  had  been  thrust 
aside,  and  held  as  of  no  account. 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 


RS.  Harte  was  a  woman  of  superior 
mind,  and  some  cultivation.  Her 
husband,  a  lawyer  of  considerable 
promise,  died  just  as  he  was  rising 
to  an  eminent  position  at  the  bar, 
and  she  was  left  without  an  income. 
In  order  to  sustain  herself,  she 
taught  for  a  few  years ;  but  not  find 
ing,  in  this  occupation,  anything 
congenial,  she  gave  up  her  scholars,  and  accepted  the 
place  of  housekeeper  in  Mr.  Guy's  family.  Her  position 
there  proved  very  far  from  being  agreeable,  and  she  was 
simply  waiting  for  an  opportunity  to  change,  when  the 
grave  incidents  attendant  on  the  death  of  Mrs.  Guy 
altered  her  purpose,  and  she  determined  to  remain.  A 
rich  man  was  in  her  power,  and  that  was  an  advantage 
not  to  be  lightly  thrown  aside  —  an  advantage  which 
she  was  just  the  woman  to  accept. 

Mrs.  Harte  was  as  thoroughly  selfish  in  her  ruling  qual 
ity  of  mind,  as  Mr.  Guy  was  in  his  ;  and  more  subtle 
and  cruel.  He  bore  down  opposition,  when  it  presented 
itself,  with  the  strong  hand  of  conscious  power  ;  but  she 
wrought  stealthily,  gaining  her  ends  by  almost  unappar- 
ent  intrusions,  and  revealing  them  only  when  accom- 


206  NOTHING    BUT    MONEY. 

plished.  Both  loved  money  ;  but  his  love  of  money  had 
its  foundation  in  avarice,  while  hers  rested  on  ambition. 
He  desired  morttey  for  its  own  sake  ;  she  for  the  sake  of 
power,  position,  and  influence.  Pride  ruled  with  her, 
avarice  with  him. 

While  it  was  not  her  intention  to  leave  the  house  of 
Mr.  Guy,  she  managed  to  give  him  the  impression  that 
she  only  waited  for  an  opportunity  to  make  a  change. 
Most  cunningly  did  she  bend,  at  times,  the  brief  pas 
sages  of  conversation  which  passed  between  them,  so  as 
to  touch  that  memorable  death  scene,  and  always  with 
a  hint  of  overshadowing  peril  that  sent  a  chill  of  fear 
to  the  heart  of  Adam  Guy,  and  made  him  more  dis 
tinctly  conscious  that  he  was  fatally  in  her  power.  She 
waslt  kind  of  terror  in  his  house ;  yet,  on  no  account 
would  he  have  that  terror  removed.  A  secret  lay  hid 
den  in  her  bosom,  the  revelation  of  which  might,  at  any 
time,  put  even  his  life  in  jeopardy.  She  must,  therefore, 
be  conciliated,  and  kept  in  friendly  contact.  There  was 
safety  in  her  friendship  ;  but  disaster  in  her  enmity. 

And  so,  as  Mrs.  Harte  gradually  assumed  a  controll 
ing  position  in  Mr.  Guy's  family,  Mr.  Guy  receded  and 
left  the  way  clear,  taking  her  side  in  all  contests  with  the 
older  children,  and  compelling  their  acquiescence  to 
her  rule. 

Only  a  few  months  were  needed,  under  the  new  order 
of  things,  to  make  Mr.  Guy  aware  of  the  fact,  that  so 
far  as  his  home-comforts  were  concerned,  he  had  gained 
sensibly  by  the  death  of  his  wife.  For  a  year  or  two, 
Lydia  had  been  so  indifferent  tosvards  him,  that  she  neg 
lected  many  personal  attentions  ;  and  left  him  to  care 


NOTHING    BUT    MONEY.  207 

for  himself.  But  now,  a  woman's  thought  and  a  wo 
man's  hand  were  becoming  more  and  more  apparent  in 
all  things  of  his  wardrobe,  and  in  all  the  home  arrange 
ments  that  touched  him  personally.  The  younger  chil 
dren  were  kept  more  quiet  when  he  was  in  the  house,  and 
the  injunction  was  constantly  falling  on  his  ears,  given 
half  aside  and  in  a  hushed  voice,  —  "  Don't  do  so  ;  it 
will  annoy  your  father," — or  words  of  similar  import. 

It  was  in  vain  that  Mrs.  Harte  strove  to  conciliate  or 
bend  Adam,  the  oldest  boy,  to  her  will  —  and  she  was 
equally  unsuccessful  with  the  sharp-tempered,  clear- 
seeing  Lydia.  Her  usurpation  of  Adam's  prerogative  in 
the  family,  was  an  offence  neither  to  be  forgotten  nor 
forgiven.  The  boy  had  tasted  of  power,  and  could  not 
relinquish  it  and  accept  submission.  He  was,  therefore, 
a  rebel  in  heart,  and,  on  all  suitable  opportunities,  a  rebel 
in  act.  But,  he  put  himself  in  antagonism  to  one 
against  whom  he  strove  in  blindness,  losing  power  in 
every  struggle.  Lydia,  who,  with  all  her  ill-nature  and 
waywardness,  had  loved  her  mother,  could  not  bear 
to  have  a  stranger  take  her  place  in  the  household. 
She  was  a  girl  of  quick  perception,  and  saw  deeper  than 
any  one  into  the  character  of  Mrs.  Harte ;  or  to  speak 
more  accurately,  had  a  truer  impression  of  her  charac 
ter  and  designs.  John  had  a  weaker  side  —  he  was  a 
sensualist  and  a  spendthrift  —  and  Mrs.  Harte,  by  occa 
sional  indulgences,  won  him  over  to  her  will. 

Adam  and  Lydia,  who  felt,  daily,  that  Mrs.  Harte 
was  gaining  strength,  united  their  forces  in  a  league 
against  her,  and  inaugurated  an  undying  warfare. 
They  watched  her  every  movement,  interpreting  to  each 


208  NOTHING   BUT   MONEY. 

other  her  words  and  actions  to  suit  themselves,  and  put 
ting  all  manner  of  obstructions  in  her  way.  But  in 
every  move  she  thwarted  them  without  a  seeming  effort, 
turning,  often,  their  machinations  to  their  own  discom 
fiture,  and  leading  them,  by  a  few  well  directed  ques 
tions,  to  an  exposure  of  themselves  to  their  father.  So 
things  went  on,  the  antagonism  between  Mrs.  Harte  and 
Adam  and  Lydia,  gaining  strength  all  the  while,  but 
taking  on  no  appearance  of  anger,  dislike,  or  stern  re 
sistance  on  the  part  of  the  former.  She  was  always 
cold,  calm,  dignified,  and  to  the  eyes  of  Mr.  Guy,  in 
the  right. 

After  the  lapse  of  a  year,  Mrs.  Harte's  position  was 
so  well  assured  in  her  own  mind,  that  she  began  to  act 
with  less  caution.  Up  to  this  period,  she  received  only 
the  wages  of  a  housekeeper,  according  to  the  original 
contract,  —  twelve  dollars  a  month.  It  was  time  to 
have  some  new  and  better  arrangement  —  to  get  nearer 
the  full  coffers  on  which  her  eyes  had  dwelt  with  covet 
ous  longings.  Mr.  Guy  seemed  too  well  satisfied  to  let 
things  move  on  as  they  were  going.  She  was  adminis 
tering  all  his  affairs  with  order  and  economy,  and  home 
was  more  comfortable  than  it  had  been  for  years.  Why 
should  he  desire  a  change  ?  For  twelve  dollars  a  month, 
he  received  a  liberal  service,  and  was  satisfied.  Not  so 
Mrs.  Harte.  Patient  waiting  was  at  an  end  ;  for  she 
saw  no  sign  of  any  new  order  of  things  in  the  family. 

It  was  now  that  an  incident  occurred  that  aroused  her 
to  immediate  action.  One  day,  while  walking  in  the 
street,  she  saw  in  advance  the  familiar  form  of  Mr.  Guy, 
in  company  with  a  lady.  Even  her  calm  pulse  leaped. 


NOTHING    BUT    MONEY.  209 

What  did  this  mean  ?  Who  was  this  lady  ?  Her  dress 
was  elegant,  and  she  walked  with  a  self-conscious  air. 
Mrs.  Harte  checked  her  pace,  and  lingered  a  little  way 
behind  them.  They  appeared  to  be  in  familiar  conver 
sation,  as  if  well  acquainted.  For  the  distance  of 
nearly  two  squares,  Mrs.  Harte  kept  them  in  close  ob 
servation  ;  then  they  stopped  at  the  corner  of  a  street, 
and  after  talking  a  few  moments,  separated.  At  part 
ing,  Mr.  Guy  bowed  with  considerable  formality,  and 
with  the  air  of  one  who  evidently  sought  to  make  a 
good  impression. 

The  lady,  who  turned  off  from  the  main  street,  glanced 
back,  two  or  three  times,  before  Mr.  Guy  was  out  of 
sight. 

"Who  is  that?  "  came  audibly  from  the  lips  of  Mrs. 
Harte,  as  she  stood  still,  like  one  who  felt  a  sudden 
shock.  Then  pressing  forward  quickly,  she  followed 
the  lady,  and  after  passing  her,  turned  at  the  next  cor 
ner  and  stood,  as  if  in  doubt.  The  fair,  attractive  face 
of  a  woman  scarcely  beyond  thirty  years,  looked  almost 
smilingly,  yet  a  little  curiously,  into  hers.  Mrs.  Har.te 
was  at  fault ;  she  did  not  know  the  lady.  But  she  must 
know  her  !  Remaining  in  apparent  hesitation  until  the 
stranger  moved  onward  a  short  distance,  she  then  fol 
lowed  slowly  at  first,  but  quickening  her  pace  so  as  not 
to  be  thrown  too  far  behind.  All  at  once  she  lost  sight* 
of  her.  The  lady  had  turned  into  another  street.  Mrs. 
Harte  hastened  forward  with  accelerated  steps,  but  when 
she  reached  the  corner,  the  object  of  her  pursuit  was  no 
where  visible.  She  had  entered  one  of  the  fine  dwell 
ings  that  stood  in  the  block. 


210  NOTHING    BUT    MONEY. 

Baffled,  and  excited  with  strange  alarm,  Mrs.  Harte 
retraced  her  steps,  and  took  her  way  homeward.  The 
countenance  of  that  lady  was  full  of  winning  grace. 
Who  was  she  ?  What  was  she  ?  Wife,  widow  or  maid 
en  ?  Hurriedly  these  questions  chased  each  other 
through  her  mind.  Was  she  rich,  as  well  as  attractive  ? 
—  a  widow,  as  well  as  beautiful  ?  Ah  !  what  had  a 
poor  housekeeper,  with  few  personal  charms,  to  hope 
for  in  a  rivalry  here  ? 

"  I  must  know  who  she  is  !  "  Mrs.  Harte  said  this  in 
a  resolute  way,  forcing  back  the  tremors  that  were  agi 
tating  her.  And  then  she  grew  calm,  and  self-possessed, 
and  clear-seeing.  If  this  were  an  obstruction  in  her  way, 
it  must  be  removed.  But,  first,  to  be  assured  that  it 
was  an  obstruction.  On  the  next  day,  on  the  next,  and 
on  the  next,  Mrs.  Harte  visited  the  neighborhood  where 
the  lady  had  disappeared,  in  order  to  ascertain,  if  possi 
ble,  by  seeing  her  at  a  window,  or  going  in  or  coming 
out,  in  which  house  she  resided,  and  thence  her  name 
and  position.  Three  times  her  visit  failed  of  any  satis 
factory  result ;  but  on  the  fourth  day,  in  passing  down 
the  block,  she  saw  the  lady  descend  from  one  of  the 
houses,  enter  a  carriage,  and  drive  off.  The  name  on 
the  door  was  noted.  It  was  Leslie. 

"  Mrs.  Leslie  !  "  Her  heart  bounded.  She  had  often 
heard  of  this  lady,  a  widow,  holding  in  her  own  right, 
a  large  fortune.  Ah,  here  was  a  formidable  rival  in 
deed,  if  rival  at  all !  Rich,  elegant,  attractive  —  what 
had  she  to  offer  in  opposition  to  these  ? 

Of  late,  Mr.  Guy,  after  dressing  himself  with  scrupu 
lous  care,  went  out,  occasionally,  in  the  evening.  The 


NOTHING    BUT    MONEY.  211 

fact  had  already  awakened  a  feeling  of  uneasiness  with 
Mrs.  Harte  ;  now,  the  circumstance  presented  an  alarm 
ing  aspect,  for  it  was  connected  in  her  mind  with  visits 
to  the  rich  young  widow.  On  this  very  evening  —  the 
one  following  the  day  on  which  Mrs.  Harte  discovered 
the  lady's  identity  —  Mr.  Guy  dressed  himself  and  went 
away.  As  he  left  the  house,  Mrs.  Harte  passed  to  her 
own  room,  where  she  moved  about  restlessly  for  some 
time.  Then  she  sat  down,  with  deep  lines  on  her  ordi 
narily  smooth  brow,  and  a  tight  pressure  on  her  lips, 
that  were  firmly  drawn  against  her  .teeth.  Her  hands 
lay  clenched  upon  her  lap. 

"  Never  !  Never !  Never !  "  The  words  came  in 
a  deep  whisper,  while  a  gleam  of  passion  quivered  over 
her  face.  "  I  will  not  be  pushed  aside  by  any  one !  " 

"  Rising,  she  went  to  a  drawer,  and  unlocking  it, 
took  out  a  vial — the  same  from  which  Mr.  Guy  had 
administered  the  morphine  to  his  wife  —  and  held  it  to 
the  lio-ht.  It  was  nearlv  full.  The  reader  will  remem- 

O  */ 

ber,  that  to  hide  the  fatal  secret  of  an  overdose,  she 
had  added  alcohol,  and  so  deceived  the  physician.  But, 
now  she  poured  from  the  vial  a  portion  equal  to  that 
added. 

"  This  is  my  argument,"  she  said,  as  she  recorked 
the  vial,  and  held  it  again  to  the  light.  "  He  must 
take  care.  I  am  no  trifler." 

It  was  after  eleven  o'clock  when  Mr.  Guy  returned. 
Mrs.  Harte  knew  the  time  to  a  second. 

On  the  next  morning,  one  of  the  children  happened 
to  be  sick,  and  the  doctor  was  called.  In  the  evening, 
Mrs.  Harte  managed  it  so,  that,  towards  nine  o'clock 
she  was  alone  with  Mr.  Guy. 


212  NOTHING    BUT    MONEY. 

"  The  doctor  thinks  Frances  quite  a  sick  child,"  she 
remarked. 

"  Does  he?  "  Mr.  Guy  aroused  himself  from  an  ab 
stracted  state  of  mind. 

"  Yes." 

"  Nothing  serious,  I  hope." 

"  There  is  a  great  deal  of  scarlet  fever  about ;  and 
she  complains  of  sore  throat." 

Mr.  Guy  looked  into  Mrs.  Harte's  face  steadily,  vbut 
did  not  answer.  A  brief  silence  followed  ;  then  Mrs. 
Harte  said  — 

"  I  don't  fancy  Dr.  Blake."  The  eyes  of  Mr.  Guy 
had  fallen  to  the  floor,  but  something  unusual  in  the 
woman's  voice  caused  him  to  look  at  her  again. 

"  Has  he  offended  you  in  anything  ?  " 

"  No  ;  but  he  has  a  prying,  inquisitive  way  about  him 
that  I  don't  like." 

"  Ah  ?  I  haven't  noticed  it.  In  what  direction  does 
his  inquisitiveness  run  ?  " 

Mrs.  Harte  did  not  answer  immediately.  The  ques 
tion  disconcerted  her,  apparently.  But,  it  was  only  in 
appearance.  Mrs.  Harte  was  never  more  really  self- 
possessed  in  her  life. 

"  In  what  direction  does  his  inquisitiveness  run." 
Guy  repeated  the  question. 

"  In  a  direction  by  no  means  agreeable.     At  his  last 
.three  visits  he  has  referred  to  the  death  of  Mrs.  Guy  in 
a  way  which  leads  me  to  infer  that  something  is  on  his 
mind." 

There  was  an  instant  change  in  Mr.  Guy's  face,  and 
Mrs.  Harte  noted  it  well,  and  took  courage. 


NOTHING    BUT    MONEY.  213 

"  What  did  he  say  ?  "     The  voice  betrayed  alarm.  . 

"  He  asked  about  the  quantity  of  morphia  that  was 
given." 

"  He  knew  that  as  well  as  you  or  I." 

"  Perhaps  not."  Never  since  the  fatal  night  when 
he  stood,  with  Mrs.  Harte,  at  the  bed-side  of  his  depart 
ing  wife,  had  he  felt  so  much  in  her  power  as  at  this 
moment ;  never  before  had  Mrs.  Harte  so  meant  to  make 
him  feel  conscious  of  her  power.  She  came  nearer  to 
him,  now  —  nearer,  and  with  an  intrusive  familiarity 
that  he  dared  not  repel ;  a  familiarity  that  made  him 
shudder  as  it  approached. 

"  Perhaps  not."  Ah,  in  the  tone  and  manner  of 
Mrs.  Harte  were  something  more  than  in  these  simple 
words.  It  was  as  if  she  had  suddenly  thrown  her  arms 
around  him,  and  said,  "  You  are  in  my  power  !  We 
are  sharers  of  a  fatal  secret,  and  safety  lies  only  in  con 
cessions  to  my  will." 

"  He  saw  the  vial,"  said  Mr.  Guy,  in  a  voice  which 
had  suddenly  grown  husky. 

"  But,  it  did  not  give  the  true  indication.  I  know 
that  three  times  the  quantity  indicated  by  the  vial  was 
administered."  There  was  marked  emphasis  on  the 
pronoun  J. 

"  The  fact  is,"  she  added,  after  a  pause,  "  I've  never 
felt  comfortable  in  my  mind  about  this  thing.  My  er 
ror  was  in  having  any  part  or  lot  with  you  in  the  mat 
ter  at  the  beginning.  I  should  have  washed  my  hands 
clear  of  it  the  moment  I  understood  the  truth.  But," 
she  hesitated,  and  remained  silent,  for  a  brief  space. 

When  she  resumed,  her  voice  was  softer,  and  she 
leaned  a  little  towards  Mr.  Guv. 


214  NOTHING    BUT   MONEY. 

«  "  But,"  she  continued,  "  I  saw  the  fearful  peril  in 
which  you  were  involved,  and  believing  that  no  wrong 
was  meant,  obeyed  my  natural  impulses,  and  went  over 
without  reflection  to  your  side.  The  act  was  imprudent, 
and  I  have  always  so  regarded  it." 

"  As  Heaven  is  my  witness,  no  wrong  was  meant," 
said  Mr.  Guy,  showing  considerable  disturbance. 

"  I  am  sure  of  that."  How  skilfully  did  Mrs.  Harte 
throw  just  a  shadow  of  sympathy  in  her  voice.  "  I  am 
sure  of  that,  Mr.  Guy."  She  repeated  the  sentence, 
with  just  a  little  warmth  of  expression.  "  But  courts 
of  justice  take  account  only  of  facts." 

"  Courts  of  justice  !  Madam  !  What  are  you  driv 
ing  at  ?  "  Guy  aroused  himself,  and  drew  away  from 
the  woman,  not  able  to  keep  the  signs  of  fear  from  his 
countenance. 

u  Nothing,  sir."  How  calmly  spoken  were  the  words. 
How  soft  their  utterance.  There  was  no  stern  purpose 
on  her  lips  ,  no  threat  in  her  eyes.  "  I  merely  suggest 
ed  a  fact  that  no  one  in  your  peril  should  fail  to  keep 
in  remembrance.  An  unhappy  circumstance  —  acci 
dent,  we  will  say  —  has  placed  you  in  a  most  unfortu 
nate  position,  and  safety  demands  that  you  be  always 
guarded." 

"  Guarded  ?  —  guarded  ?  "  Guy's  manner  showed 
some  bewilderment  of  thought.  "  No  one  is  in  the 

O 

secret  but  you,  Mrs.  Harte." 

You  were  not  guarded  when  that  dropped  from  your 
lips,  Mr.  Guy. 

"  Those  who  know  me  best,  sir,  will  tell  you  that  I 
am  a  warm  friend" 


NOTHING    BUT    MONEY.  215 

There  was  no  occasion  to  add  —  "  But  a  bitter  ene 
my  ! "  for  Mr.  Guy  understood  Mrs.  Harte  to  mean 
that.  a3  clearly  as  if  she  had  finished  the  sentence  orally 
—  and  she  meant  him  to  understand  it.  A  shudder 
crept  along  his  nerves  as  the  conviction  grew  into  assur 
ance,  that  he  was  wholly  in  her  power,  and  that,  in  the 
velvet  hand  which  was  now  laid  upon  his  in  a  soft,  in 
trusive  touch,  sharp  talons  were  hidden. 

"  I  can  be  as  silent  as  death,  sir,"  she  said,  in  her 
low,  unimpassioned  voice.  "  Let  Doctor  Blake  thrust 
in  his  probe.  He  shall  find  no  tender  spot  answering 
to  his  touch.  Your  secret  lies  safe  with  me." 

Safe !  Mr.  Guy  felt  that  it  would  be  safer,  if  she 
were  stark  and  cold  as  his  wife  lay,  when  he  saw  her 
coffined ;  and  in  his  heart,  he  wished  she  were  dead, 
and  out  of  his  path. 

"  It  was  only  an  accident,  at  worst,"  he  said,  endeav 
oring  to  rally  himself,  "  and  nothing  more  could  be 
made  out  of  it." 

Mrs.  Harte  looked  grave,  and  shook  her  head. 

"  What  more  could  be  made  of  it  ?  "  demanded  Guy. 

"  Suppose  I  were  put  upon  the  witness  stand,  and 
required  to  give  testimony  under  oath;  what  then? 
The  druggist's  evidence  would  be  conclusive  as  to  the 
quantity  of  morphia  sold,  and  mine  would  show  by 
what  remained  in  the  vial,  the  quantity  given.  Any 
chemist  would  tell  the  court  that  death,  in  ordinary 
cases,  would  follow  such  an  administration.  Then  look 
at  your  position  !  I  tell  you,  sir,  the  matter  is  one  to 
create  alarm.  I  don't  like  the  way  in  which  Doctor 
Blake  asks  questions,  and  shall  have  to  be  guarded  to 
the  utmost  in  my  answers." 


216  NOTHING    BUT    MONEY. 

Blank  fear  was  visible  in  Guy's  countenance.  Mrs. 
Harte  had  narrowed  the  question  of  his  danger  down  to 
a  very  clearly  apprehended  point,  and  he  saw  his  peril 
more  distinctly  than  it  had  ever  been  seen  before. 

"  And  you  would  testify  as  to  the  quantity  given  ?  " 
said  Guy,  looking  sharply  into  the  woman's  face. 

"  I  would  be  under  oath,"  was  her  quiet  response. 

"  And  yet,  you  know  as  well  as  I  do,  that  no  harm 
was  meant.  That,  in  my  anxiety  to  relieve  a  madden 
ing  pain,  I  repeated  the  doses  too  frequently.  And, 
Heaven  is  my  witness,  that  I  was  ignorant  as  to  the 
effects  such  small  administrations  would  produce  !  I 
never  dreamed  of  anything  beyond  a  long  sleep." 

"  Don't  understand  me,  sir,  as  questioning  this  for  a 
single  instant,"  said  Mrs.  Harte,  again  laying  her  soft, 
cat-like  hand  upon  his  arm,  with  even  more  of  familiar 
confidence  than  she  had  ypt  assumed.  "  /  fully  com 
prehend  the  case,  and  you  have  nothing  to  fear,  unless 
I  should  be  dragged  into  court.  That  is  the  ultimate 
result,  from  which  I  shrink  in  fear.  An  oath,  sir,  is  the 
most  solemn  of  all  obligations." 

"  And  one  that  you  would  not  violate  under  the  ex- 
tremest  of  circumstances?" 

Mrs.  Harte  felt  that  more  was  meant  than  appeared 
in  the  words  of  this  question,  and,  therefore,  she  did  not 
answer  promptly. 

"  I  cannot  say  what  I  might  do  in  the  extremest  of 
circumstances,"  she  answered,  after  a  pause.  "  Human 
nature  is  weak.  For  those  who  are  dearest  to  us  — 
those  in  whom  life,  and  all  that  makes  life  desirable,  is 
bound  up,  we  often  dare  a  great  deal  —  suffer  a  great 


NOTHING    BUT    MONEY.  217 

deal  —  risk  a  great  deal.  But,  an  oath  is  a  solemn 
thing,  and  its  violation  brings  consequences  that  reach 
beyond  this  life." 

She  dropped  her  eyes  meekly,  on   closing  this  sen 
tence.     Guy  studied  her  face    intently.     But   he    was 
not  a  skilled  physiognomist,  and  failed  to  read  its  signs. 
After  a  silence  of  some    minutes   on    both    sides,  Mrs. 
Harte  arose  and  withdrew  from  the  room,  satisfied  that 
nothing  further  was  needed  to  impress  Mr.  Guy  with  a 
sense  of  the  peril  in  which  he  stood,  and  the  extent  of 
her  power  over  him.     If  he  had  shown  indifference  to 
his  position  —  if  he  had  scoffed  at  her  intimations  of  dan 
ger  — if  he  had  thrust  her  back,  as  she  advanced  upon 
him,  she  would  have  been  in  doubt  of  ultimately  gain 
ing  her  ends  ;  but,  he   betrayed   so   fully  his  weakness 
and   fears,  that   she   felt    strong   and   confident.     The 
image  of  Mrs.  Leslie,  as  it  arose  in  her  thought,  when 
she  sat  down  alone  in  her  chamber,  did  not  now  greatly 
disturb  Mrs.  Harte.     Should  that  lady  really  come  in 
her  way,  she  felt  that  in  her  own  hands  was  the  power 
of  setting  her  aside  —  a  power  in  the  exercise  of  which 
there  wo  aid  be  no  scruple. 


CHAPTER  XXV. 


VENTS  foreshadowed  in  the  last  chap 
ter,  took  their  places  as  things  accom 
plished  in  due  course  of  time.  At  the 
moment  of  Mrs.  Guy's  death,  under 
circumstances  that  gave  her  power  over 
Mr.  Guy,  the  thought  of  using  that 
power  to  her  own  advantage  entered  the 
mind  of  Mrs.  Harte ;  and  from  that 
time,  until  at  the  end  of  two  years,  she 
stood,  with  "orange  blossoms  in  her  hair,  and  heard 
herself  pronounced  the  wife  of  Adam  Guv,  she  had 
never,  for  an  instant,  swerved  from  tho  firs*,  incipient 
purpose. 

Had  she  formed  an  attachment  for  the  man,  during 
these  two  years? — Women  often  love  strmcrelv,  ana 
draw,  with  an  instinct  of  tenderness,  towards  natures 
that  seem  to  possess  no  qualities  essential  to  love. 
Nothing  of  the  kind !  Mrs.  Harte's  bosom  never 
swelled  nor  warmed  with  even  the  beginnings  of  affec 
tion.  If  it  had  not  been  for  the  wealth  of  Adam  Guy, 
and  the  ends  she  desired  in  the  possession  of  wealth, 
she  would  have  turned  from  him  in  disgust,  instead  of 
seeking  an  alliance.  As  it  was,  she  used  him  as  a 
stepping-stone  to  position,  regarding  him  with  scarcely 


NOTHING    BUT    MONEY.  219 

more  interest  than  we  regard  the  steps  by  which  we  as 
cend  the  higher  places  we  seek  to  gain. 

Soon,  one  by  one,  disguises  fell  away  from  this  ambi 
tious  woman,  and  her  husband  began  to  comprehend, 
with  a  vague  feeling  of  distrust  and  anxiety,  that  he 
had  taken  an  enemy  into  his  household  that  might 
prove  too  strong  for  him  in  any  war  he  should  attempt 
to  wage.  Changes  in  their  style  of  living  were  gradu 
ally  made,  almost  without  consultation  ;  and  then,  cost 
ly  articles  of  furniture  purchased  with  a  boldly  assumed 
right  of  expenditure,  that  half  appalled  the  man,  who 
still,  though  possessing  large  wealth,  shrunk  from  the 
extravagance  indulged  by  families  of  far  lighter  sub 
stance  than  himself.  He  did  not  grow  liberal  as  he 
grew  rich  ;  but  guarded  his  coffers  with  the  Argus-eyed 
fidelity  that  distinguished  him  in  the  beginning.  If  he 
ventured  on  a  feeble  remonstrance,  or  even  grew  ear 
nest  and  excited  over  some  bolder  essay,  Mrs.  Guy  met 
him  with  a  few  calmly  spoken  and  conclusive  sentences, 
that  foreclosed  argument.  Not  that  he  was  convinced, 

O 

but  impressed  with  the  futility  of  offering  a  word  in  op 
position. 

The  woman  was  too  strong  for  him  ;  too  strong,  be 
cause  he  did  not  really  know  wherein  her  strength  lay, 
nor  how  to  assault  it.  He  still  feared  her  for  the  se 
cret  she  held.  But  for  that  secret,  she  had  never  led 
him  an  unwilling  man  to  the  marriage  altar.  It  was 
only  because  he  deemed  his  good  name,  perhaps  his 
liberty  or  life,  safest  in  bonds  with  her,  that  he  ever 
permitted  himself  to  be  bound ;  and  now,  he  felt  the 
chains  to  be  very  heavy. 


220  NOTHING   BUT    MONEY. 

Mrs.  Harte  came  into  this  family,  nearly  all  the  ele 
ments  of  which  were  in  conflict  from  strong  selfish  pro 
clivities,  upon  which  no  wholesome  restraints  had  been 
laid  with  no  other  end  but  to  serve  an  inordinate  so 
cial  ambition.  During  the  period  in  which  her  relation 
was  simply  that  of  housekeeper,  she  had  failed  to  draw 
any  affection  upon  herself,  even  in  the  younger  children  ; 
and  towards  them  she  had  no  right  feelings.  Naturally 
systematic  and  orderly,  and  being  moved,  besides,  by 
her  purpose  to  win  her  way  by  fear  or  favor  to  a  perma 
nent  place  in  the  household,  she  administered  all  things 
appertaining  to  their  external  lives  in  a  way  that  left 
her  without  reproach.  But,  after  her  marriage —  aft^r 
she  took  the  name  and  position  of  wife  and  step-moth 
er,  —  a  new  state  of  mind  naturally  led  to  new  action 
touching  the  children.  They  were  in  her  way  — six  chil 
dren  formed  a  solid  phalanx  of  obstruction,  that  would 
grow  stronger  with  every  succeeding  year  -  and  the  mo 
mentous  question  of  how  they  were  to  be  removed  out 
of  her  way,  came  up  for  consideration,  and  was  deeply 
pondered.  They  must  not  stand  between  her  and  final 
ends  —  between  her,  and  the  absolute  possession  of  Mr. 
Guy's  large  wealth,  when  the  time  came  for  him  to  fol 
low  in  the  path  poor  Lydia  Guy  had  taken.  Did  she 
meditate  violence  !  O  no.  Nothing  of  that.  But 
Adam  Guy  was  fifteen  years  her  senior,  and  she  held 
the  chances  of  survival  as  altogether  on  her  side. 
When  she  became,  for  a  second  time  in  her  life,  a  wid 
ow,  she  desired  to  have  ample  wealth  as  a  consoler  in 
widowhood.  Having  married  Adam  Guy  only  for 
his  money,  she  must  not  lose  the  game  on  which  she  had 
risked  her  all  in  life. 


NOTHING    BUT    MONEY.  221 

Philip,  the  youngest  child,  had  always  been  ailing. 
He  was  puny,  fretful  and  troublesome.  Much  to  the  se 
cret  gratification  of  Mrs.  Guy  —  and  happily  for  him  — 
death  came  in  mercy  and  removed  him  ere  for  six  months 
he  had  tried  to  say  "  mother,"  and  feel  that  the  very 
name  was  not  a  mockery  to  his  yearning  heart.  He 
died,  and  the  low,  soft  voice  of  his  step-mother,  as  she 
laid  her  recently  jewelled  hand  on  his  white  brow,  said 
with  a  tearful  tenderness  and  resignation  that  deceived 
only  the  listeners  who  were  not  of  the  household  — 
~J"  Of  such  is  the  Kingdom  of  Heaven."  Truth  comes 
often  in  hypocritical  utterances.  It  was  so  in  the  pres 
ent  instance.  Not  to  find  heart-relief  in  this  beautiful 
sentiment  were  the  words  spoken  ;  but  to  give  an  im 
pression  of  religious  faith  and  maternal  affection  where 
none  existed. 

The  birth  of  a  son  to  Mrs.  Guy  was  an  event  on 
which  momentous  issues  depended.  If,  before  this  pe 
riod,  she  had  pondered  the  virtual  disinheritance  of  her 
predecessor's  children,  the  accomplishment  of  that  re 
sult  became,  now,  a  well-defined  purpose.  The  motive 
was  strengthened  seven  fold.  Already  she  had  begun 
her  work  in  a  secret  fostering  of  antagonisms  that  ex 
isted  among  the  children,  so  that  permanent  alienations 
might  result,  and  the  enemy  she  had  to  encounter 
stand  divided  and  in  conflict  with  itself.  After  the 
birth  of  her  own  child,  Mrs.  Guy  used  every  means 
within  her  reach  to  turn  the  father's  mind  away  from 
his  other  children.  She  gave  him  no  peace  until  Adam, 
John  and  Lydia  were  sent  away  from  the  city  to  a 
boarding  school,  where  they  were  kept  for  years,  only 
visiting  their  homes  during  seasons  of  vacation. 


222  NOTHING    BUT    MONEY. 

With  the  pleasure  that  only  an  evil  spirit  could  real 
ize,  Mrs.  Guy  saw  at  each  return  of  the  older  children, 
that  John  and  Lydia  were  moving  in  paths,  the  end  of 
which  would  be  almost  certain  alienation  from  their 
father.  John's  spendthrift  habits,  and  animal  propensi 
ties  she  stimulated  by  frequent. additions  to  the  limited 
supply  of  pocket  money  that  was  allowed  ;  and  he  had 
learned  to  write  to  her  in  confidence,  and  solicit  these  ad 
ditions  with  a  certainty  of  always  receiving  a  favorable 
response.  In  sending  him  money,  Mrs.  Guy  never  failed 
to  give  admonition  of  the  soundest  kind,  and  always  en 
joined  secrecy,  as  the  knowledge  by  his  father  of  these  de 
partures  from  his  wishes,  would  result  in  cutting  off  all 
indulgence.  John  loved  himself  and  the  means  of  en 
joyment  thus  conferred,  too  well  to  betray  their  secret ; 
and  as  habits  of  self-indulgence  grew  stronger,  his  calls 
for  money  increased,  until  Mrs.  Guy  found  the  drain 
upon  her  individual  purse,  becoming  far  heavier  than 
she  could  conveniently  bear.  The  limitations  had  to 
be  imposed.  Against  limitations  sensuality  always  re 
bels.  The  boy  demanded  increased  supplies  ;  but  his 
step-mother  was,  whenever  it  suited  her  so  to  be,  as 
unyielding  as  iron.  She  did  not  meet  his  demands  for 
an  increase,  but  lessened  the  sums  she  had  been  accus 
tomed  to  transmit.  Self-denial  was  not  in  the  boy. 
Towards  restriction,  he  had  only  one  course  of  action, 
and  that  was  resistance.  But,  resistance  to  his  step 
mother  he  soon  discovered  to  be  a  waste  of  strength. 
He  must  take  from  her  just  what  she  chose  to  accord, 
and  make  up  the  balance  of  his  wants  in  some  other 
way. 


NOTHING    BUT   MONEY.  223 

In  some  other  way !  Ah,  there  was  peril  here ! 
Deeply  versed  in  human  nature,  Mrs.  Guy  was  not  un 
aware  of  the  boy's  danger.  She  knew  very  well,  that 
the  good  advice,  about  curbing  appetite  and  desire  — 
about  self-restraint,  and  all  that  —  which  she  urged  in 
her  letters,  would  pass  him  like  the  idle  wind,  and  that 
he  would  cast  about  for  some  means  of  obtaining  the 

O 

sums  of  monev  which  she  denied.     Her  indulgence  had 

*•  c5 

given  his  grosser  propensities  too  large  stimulus,  and 
to  the  cutting  down  of  gratification  he  would  not  sub 
mit.  If  one  source  of  supply  were  diminished,  he  must 
find  another. 

Mrs.  Guy  had  not  been  well  informed  as  to  John's 
defect  of  principle,  but  many  lapses  from  integrity  had 
come  under  her  own  observation,  and  she  was,  there 
fore,  fully  prepared  to  hear,  at  any  time,  of  his  disgrace 
at  school,  on  the  accusation  and  proof  of  dishonest  ap 
propriations  ;  and  not  only  prepared  as  to  an  anticipa 
tion  of  the  fact,  but  strong  in  a  spirit  of  submission  and 
resignation  whenever  the  fact  should  be  announced. 

o 

Several  years  had  glided  away  since  the  three  older 
children  left  home  for  school.  Adam  had  gained  his 
nineteenth  year  ;  John  was  reaching  towards  eighteen 
and  Lydia  was  a  tall,  womanly  looking  girl,  only  a  year 
younger  than  John.  At  home,  the  family  had  been  in 
creased  by  an  addition  of  two  more  children,  number 
ing  three  born  to  the  second  Mrs.  Guy  —  two  sons  and 
one  daughter  —  all  living  arguments  against  the  rights 
of  Mr.  Guy's  first  children. 

At  this  period,  we  will  bring  the  reader,  for  a  little 
while,  to  a  nearer  point  of  observation,  and  let  him  see 


224  NOTHING    BUT    MONEY. 

in  what  measure  the  ends  of  life  with  Adam  Guy,  are 
working  out  the  grand  results  of  happiness  which,  twen 
ty  years  before,  made  the  future  look  so  bright  with 
promise,  that  patience  to  wait  the  slow  evolution  of 
years  could  hardly  be  maintained. 

Mr.  Guy  left  his  home  ene  morning,  with  the  pres 
sure  on  his  feelings  that  always  rested  there  while  at 
home  —  a  pressure  which  had  its  origin  in  an  ever  abid 
ing  sense  of  weakness.  Out  in  the  world  his  money 
was  an  undisputed  argument.  His  will  was  free  ;  his 
word  a  law.  But,  at  home,  as  in  the  latter  days  of  his 
first  wife,  there  was  a  subtle,  almost  intangible  power, 
against  which  resistance  seemed  hopeless.  If  he  struck 
against  it,  like  a  man  beating  the  wind,  the  result  was 
only  self-exhaustion.  Mrs.  Guy  did  not,  like  her  pre 
decessor,  oppose  an  open  resistance,  or  stifle  him  with 
impassiveness.  She  was  usually  calm,  self-possessed, 
and  gentle  in  tone  ;  never  meeting  him  with  resolute 
opposition ;  yet,  was  he  all  the  while  conscious,  that 
she  was  bending  him  to  her  will,  and  gaining  at  every 
point  of  approach.  She  was  the  watchful  spider,  si 
lently  spinning  her  web.  He  did  not  feel  the  silken 
cord,  of  invisible  fineness,  as  it  fell  lightly  over  him, 
and  only  knew  that  he  was  in  her  toils,  when  some 
movement  warned  him  of  his  bands  and  his  helplessness. 

Mr.  Guy  left  home  one  morning,  as  we  have  said, 
with  the  usual  uncomfortable  weight  upon  his  feelings, and 
repaired  to  his  store.  A  number  of  letters  were  on  his 
desk,  most  of  them  business  letters,  directed  to  the  firm. 
Among  them,  were  two  addressed  to  himself.  One  of 
these,  he  recognized  as  from  his  son  Adam.  The  busi- 


NOTHING    BUT    MONEY.  225 

ness  letters  were  first  read.     Then  ho  broke  the  seal  of 
one  of  those  that  remained.     It  read  thus  :  — 

"  DEAR  SIR  :  —  I  have  most  painful  intelligence  to 
communicate.  Your  son  John  has  been  guilty  of  con 
duct  that  renders  it  impossible  for  me  any  longer  to  con 
tinue  him  in  my  school.  The  charge  of  appropriating 
money,  and  various  articles  belonging  to  other  persons, 
has  been  so  fully  proved  against  him,  that  no  question  as 
to  his  guilt  is  entertained  by  any  one.  Not  wishing,  for 
your  sake  and  his  own,  to  subject  him  to  the  disgrace 
of  expulsion,  I  write  to  request  that  you  will  direct  his 
immediate  return  home.  He  is  already  suspended  from 
participation  in  the  exercises  of  my  school. 

"  It  is  also  my  duty  to  say,  that  John's  habits  are  of 
a  dangerous  kind,  and  will,  unless  they  can  be  broken, 
lead  him  to  certain  ruin.  The  freedom  with  which  he 
has  been  supplied  with  pocket  money,  has  led  to  con 
stant  self-indulgence,  and  he  has,  during  the  last  six 
months,  as  I  now  learn,  been  several  times  intoxicated. 
To  my  surprise  and  pain,  I  have  been  informed  within 
twenty-four  hours,  that  he  has,  for  some  time,  kept  wines, 
and  other  liquors,  in  his  room.  I  very  much  regret  that 
a  knowledge  of  this  fact  was  so  long  concealed  from  me 

o  o 

by  those  who  were  advised  of  it.     My  object  in  com 
municating  it  now,  is  that  you  may  clearly  comprehend 
his  danger,  and  so  be  able  to  adopt   the  most  effectual 
neans  for  his  rescue. 
"  With  high  respect,  I  am,  truly  yours, 

"R E, ." 

10* 


226  NOTHING   BUT   MONEY. 

The  first  reading  of  this  letter,  so  stunned  Mr.  Guy, 

O  «•    ' 

that  his  mind  fell  into  a  state  of  painful  confusion.  He 
rallied  in  a  little  while,  and  read  the  letter  again,  when 
the  whole  truth  stood  out  in  all  its  shocking  magni 
tude. 

"A  thief  and  a  drunkard!-"  Mr.  Guy  shuddered 
inwardly,  as  he  repeated  this  sentence  to  himself.  He 
was  in  his  counting-room,  with  clerks  around  him,  and 
must  not  betray  an  outward  sign  of  the  agitation  against 
which  he  was  struggling. 

Next,  Adam's  -letter  was  opened.  It  recounted,  with 
some  particularity,  the  criminal  conduct  of  his  brother, 
condemning  him  in  strong  language,  and  prophesying  no 
good  in  the  future.  "  He  doesn't  seem  to  have  a  single 
redeeming  quality,"  was  the  strong  language  used  by 
this  boy,  "  after  his  father's  own  heart,"  followed  by 
sentences  like  these  :  — u  He  only  thinks  of  self-indul 
gence,  and  would  spend  a  thousand  dollars  a  month,  if 
he  had  his  will."  "  I  don't  know  how  it  is,  but,  to  my 
certain  knowledge,  he  spends  three  or  four  dollars  to 
one  of  your  allowance.  Where  does  the  rest  come 
from  ?  He's  in  debt  to  the  boys ;  but  not  enough  to 
account  for  this.  I'm  afraid  he  gambles."  The  letter 
closed  as  follows :  —  "I  must  come  home,  also  ;  for, 
after  John's  conduct,  I  can'*,  look  an  honest  boy  fairly  in 
the  face.  Any  way,  I'm  tired  of  study,  and  want  to  get 
into  business." 

When  Mr.  Guy  went  home  at  dinner-time,  he  said 
to  his  wife,  in  a  tone  that  betrayed  his  unhappy  feel 
ings  :  — 

"  The  boys  are  going  to  leave  school." 


NOTHING    BUT    MONEY.  227 

"  What  ?  "  Mrs.  Guy  turned  upon  her  husband 
with  a  suddenness  of  manner,  and  a  degree  of  surprise, 
unusual  for  one  so  guarded,  and  so  externally  placid. 

"  The  boys  are  coming  home  from  school." 

"  To  remain?  " 

"  Yes." 

"Why?" 

"  John  has  got  himself  into  some  trouble,  and  Adam 
doesn't  wish  to  remain  after  his  brother  leaves." 

"•  But  haven't  you  a  word  to  say  on  a  matter  like 
this  ?  "  demanded  Mrs.  Guy. 

"  The  matter  is  pretty  well  out  of  my  hands,"  return 
ed  Mr.  Guy,  with  some  impatience. 

"  Out  of  your  hands  ?     I  don't  understand  you." 

Mr.  Guy  had  not  intended  to  show  the  letters  he  had 
received  to  his  wife,  for  he  was  not  ignorant  of  the  fact 
that  she  was  more  ready  to  defend  John  than  to  blame 
him  ;  but,  acting  under  a  confused  impulse,  he  drew  the 
teacher's  communication  from  his  pocket,  and  placed 
it  in  her  possession.  She  read  it  through,  calmly. 

"  This  is  trouble  !  "  fell  from  her  lips  ;  but,  her  voice 
did  not  add  to  the  force  of  her  words ;  for,  already,  she 
was  considering  the  facts  revealed  with  reference  to  their 
bearing  on  her  future  schemes. 

"  Trouble,  and  disgrace  added  !  "  said  Mr.  Guy,  with 
a  stormy  vehemence  of  manner,  that  sometimes  betrayed 
itself  under  unusual  provocation  — "  I'm  tempted  to 
disown  the  wretch  !  A  son  of  mine  turn  thief !  Ugh  ! 
Horrible  !  " 

"  I  would  sooner  see  him  dead,"  answered  Mrs.  Guy. 
How  closely  her  declaration  came  to  the  actual  truth. 


228  NOTHING    BUT    MONEY. 

"  Dead  !  Ho  !  Death  would  be  as  nothing  in  com 
parison." 

"  What  are  you  going  to  do  with  him  ?  "  Mrs.  Guy 
put  the  question  almost  sharply,  her  interest  in  the  mat 
ter  betraying  her  from  the  citadel  of  her  strength  —  ex 
ternal  calm. 

"  Do  ?     Heaven  only  knows  !  " 

"  Idleness  in  a  city  will  only  make  ruin  the  swifter. 
Temptations  meet  the  unwary  at  every  step." 

"I  know  —  I  know.  He  must  be  set  to  work  at 
something,"  answered  Mr.  Guy,  casting  about  in  his 
thoughts,  but  without  seeing  any  light. 

"  I  wouldn't  bring  him  home,"  said  Mrs.  Guy,  speak 
ing  from  the  over  anxiety  she  felt  in  reference  to  the  two 
boys'  return. 

"Why  not?  What  would  you  do ?"  Guy  knit  his 
brows,  and  looked  sternly  at  his  wife.  She  had  betray 
ed  herself,  and  he  saw  a  little  below  the  surface.  "  Isn't 
home  the  best  and  safest  place  for  him  ?  —  Home,  where 
father  and  mother  can  watch  and  guard,  warn,  lead,  or 
admonish  ?  I  know  that  temptation  lurks  in  cities  ;  but 
home  influence  ought  to  be  stronger  than  temptation. 
Let  us  see  if  it  cannot  be  made  so  in  John's  case." 

"  /can  promise  nothing,"  answered  Mrs.  Guy,  draw 
ing  coldly  back  into  herself.  "  As  for  Adam  and  John, 
they  have  always  acted  with  as  much  independence  as 
if  I  were  a  nonentity.  They  have  never  clearly  acknow 
ledged  my  rights  in  the  household ;  and,  were  I  to  at- 
tenipt  control  or  influence,  so  far  as  they  are  concerned, 
open  war  would  be  the  consequence.  There  is  no  use 
in  concealing  the  fact,  John  is  wholly  beyond  my  reach  ; 


NOTHING    BUT    MONEY.  229 

and  if,  in  bringing  him  home,  you  calculate  anything  on 
my  power  of  restraint  or  direction,  you  build  on  a  foun 
dation  of  sand." 

Mr.  Guy  did  not  answer.  What  could  he  say  ?  The 
will  of  a  woman  like  his  wife,  was  too  strong  a  thino- 

7  O  c? 

for  him  to  act  against ;  particularly,  when  to  the  will 
was  added  a  subtle  and  far-seeing  spirit.  He  did  not 
venture  to  speak  of  duty,  forbearance  and  self-denial ; 
for  these  had  never  been  elements  of  power  in  his  own 
life  ;  and  he  doubted  as  to  their  existence,  as  moral  forces, 
with  any  one.  They  might  answer  as  catch  words,  and 
to  make  oratorical  points  in  a  sermon  ;  but  were  of  little 
worth  as  ends  of  action  —  certainly  of  no  value  in  his 
home.  No ;  he  did  not  speak  to  his  wife  of  duty,  fore- 
bearance,  or  self-denial,  lest  she  should  fling  the  words 
back  in  his  face  with  cold  contempt. 

"  If  Adam  and  John  come  home,"  resumed  Mrs. 
Guy,  Edwin  must  go  away  to  school  somewhere.  He's 
nearly  past  me  now,  and,  in  league  with  his  two  older 
brothers,  will  set  my  authority  aside,  as  nothing.  The 
fact  is,  Mr.  Guy,  the  house  isn't  large  enough  to  hold  us 
all ;  and  you  might  as  well  comprehend  the  fact  first  as 
last.  Three  to  one  are  too  many  ;  and  I  can't  make 
my  way  against  such  odds.  With  Edwin  alone,  I  am 
taxed  to  the  utmost  to  maintain  myself  in  peace.  Put 
Adam  and  John  on  the  enemies'  side,  and  I  shall  be 
driven  from  the  house  in  less  than  two  months." 

"You  speak  wildly,"  said  Mr.  Guy,  in  a  tone  of 
impatience,  beginning  to  stalk  about  the  floor  in  quick, 
short  turns. 

"  Not  wildly  but  soberly.     Facts  are  stubborn  things, 


230  NOTHING    BUT    MONEY. 

sir.  You  don't  know  half  of  what  Pm  required  to  put 
up  with  from  your  children,  old  and  young.  They  are 
the  curse  of  my  life  !  " 

Mr.  Guy  stopped  suddenly,  before  the  woman  who 
said  this,  and  gazed  at  her  with  a  countenance  on  which 
surprise  blended  with  a  shade  of  fear. 

"  That  is  strange  talk,"  he  ventured  to  say. 

"  And  stranger  that  it  is  true  talk,"  answered  Mrs. 

~  ' 

Guy,  firmly.  "  No  woman  could  have  done  more  than 
1  have  done  for  your  children's  well  being  and  comfort ; 
but,  they  set  themselves  against  me  from  the  beginning, 
disputing  every  inch  of  ground  I  assumed  in  the  family, 
and  yearly  gaining  strength,  until  now,  they  are  able  to 
set  me  at  defiance.  If  you  go  over  to  them,  the  end 
has  come.  I  must  step  aside,  and  find  protection  some 
where  else." 

"  Woman  !  Are  you  beside /yourself?  "  exclaimed 
Mr.  Guy. 

"  No,  sir,"  was  the  cold,  steady  reply.  "  I  am  in  pos 
session  of  all  my  faculties,  and  able  to  comprehend, 
clearly,  my  position.  The  odds  are  against  me.  When 
Adam  and  John  return,  I  shall,  in  all  probability,  have 
to  take  my  children  and  seek  another  home.  Submit  to 
dictation  and  insult  from  them,  I  will  not  !  Enough 
has  already  been  endured." 

There  was  a  flashing  light  in  her  eyes,  never  seen  by 
Mr.  Guy  until  now.  Hitherto  calmness  of  purpose  had 
marked  all  her  actions.  If  she  set  herself  in  opposition 
to  her  husband's  will,  she  wrought  so  in  concealment 
that  he  had  scarcely  a  suspicion  of  her  purpose  until  it 
was  accomplished.  But  now,  she  stood  revealed  in  a 


NOTHING    BUT    MONEY.  231 

sterner,  more  resolute,  and  more  defiant  character.  She 
meant  to  come  into  open  conflict  with  his  elder  children 
—  not  recklessly  and  blindly  ;  nor  in  any  doubt  as  to  the 
issue,  —  but  well  assured  in  her  own  mind  of  victory. 

"But,  what  am  I  to  do  with  them  ?•"  asked  Mr.  Guy. 
"  They  are  my  children,  and  this  is  their  home." 

"Require  their  just  submission,"  said  his  wife  firmly. 

"•  Easily  said,"  was  replied,  with  returning  impatience. 

"  If  you  cannot  rule  them  I  cannot,"  answered  Mrs. 
Guy,  "  and  so  the  antagonism  remains.  As  for  me,  I 
am  a  lover  of  peace  and  order ;  but,  at  the  same  time, 
will  not  accept  peace  at  the  cost  of  humiliation.  Self- 
respect  forbids  that.  As  your  wife,  and  their  mother  by 
your  election,  I  will  never  submit  to  their  insults,  defi 
ances,  and  impertinences.  While  they  were  little  chil 
dren,  I  bore  everything,  as  was  my  duty,  trusting  to 
win  their  love  ;  but  now,  when  they  are  on  the  verge 
of  manhood,  I  am  absolved  of  duty,  and  will  stand  upon 
my  rights  —  asking  nothing  and  yielding  nothing.  If 
Adam  and  John  are  to  come  home,  well.  But  unless  you 
send  Edwin  away,  there  will  be  no  peace  or  safety.  Ad 
am  and  John  are  always  in  opposition  to  each  other, 
and  I  may  stand  between  them,  giving  a  side  to  each, 
and  so  maintain  myself;  but  if  Edwin  stays  at  home, 
he  will  go  over  to  one  or  the  other,  and  hold  me  at  defi 
ance.  Therefore,  think  well  before  you  act,  for  I  am 
in  earnest.  I  trust  there  will  be  no  open  rupture  with 
me  and  the  boys ;  but  if  they  attempt  to  set  me  aside 
now,  it  will  as  surely  come  as- the  night  comes  after  the 
day.  So,  I  pray  you,  act  with  circumspection.  There 
is  a  crisis  at  hand." 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 


R.  GUY  was  a  very  shrewd  mer 
chant,  and  none  was  wiser  than  he 
in  all  that  appertained  to  the  mak 
ing  and  keeping  of  money.  But, 
take  him  outside  of  money-schemes, 
and  he  was  shorn  of  his  strength. 
As  a  money-maker,  he  was  great ; 
as  a  man,  nothing.  Present  to  him 
a  question  of  trade,  or  finance,  and 
nine  times  in  ten  his  decision  would  be  of  the  sound 
est  character ;  but,  let  the  question  involve  political  ex 
pediency,  or  social  law,  and  he  had  no  skill  —  no  per 
ception.  He  comprehended  the  operations  of  business 
thoroughly,  and  understood  human  nature  on  the  busi 
ness  side  ;  but  mental  and  moral  movements  puzzled 
him,  and  human  nature  on  the  social  side,  was  a  mystery 
he  had  no  skill  to  penetrate.  With  him,  it  was,  literal 
ly,  nothing  but  money.  All  his  wisdom  lay  crystallized 
around  his  love  of  gold. 

O 

Mr.  Guy  was  not,  therefore,  equal  to  the  new  position 
of  affairs  in  his  family.  He  was  adrift  on  a  troubled 
sea,  without  chart  or  compass.  The  resolute  attitude 


NOTHING    BUT   MONEY.  233 

of  Mrs.  Guy,  confounded  as  well  as  confused  him.  He 
knew  her  well  enough  to  be  assured  that,  in  assuming 
this  attitude,  she  had  changed  her  front  for  the  purpose 
of  strengthening,  in  some  way,  her  position  ;  and  that  she 
would  strengthen  it,  and  so  gain  some  new  advantage, 
he  ielt  sure  —  the  conviction  oppressing  him  with  a 
sense  of  his  own  weakness  in  her  hands.  She  was  a 
power,  acting  upon  him  in  such  subtle  and  strange  ways, 
that  he  could  make  no  sure  defence.  Usually,  if  he 
threw  up  a  barrier,  and  entrenched  himself,  the  enemy 
retired,  leaving  the  post  of  no  value,  but  weakening  and 
annoying  him  with  assaults  from  unexpected  quarters. 
Now,  however,  she  was  bearing  bravely  down  upon  him, 
with  all  her  banners  displayed,  meaning  to  risk  a  battle. 
Was  he  strong  enough  to  meet  the  shock  ?  Did  he 
know  the  strength  and  resources  of  his  enemy  ? 

Mr.  Guy's  heart  failed  him.  The  attitude  of  his  wife 
was  too  bold  ;  too  full  of  conscious  strength  ;  too  resolute. 
The  time  had  come,  when  he  must  choose  between  her 
and  his  older  children.  If  they  did  not  submit  them 
selves  to  her,  they,  or  she,  must  go  out  from  his  home. 
That  was  the  alternative  clearly  offered.  A  feeble  at 
tempt  at  remonstrance  and  persuasion  was  made,  but 
Mrs.  Guy  turned  it  aside  as  futile.  She  would  have  no 
parley. 

"  I  ask  nothing,  sir,  but  what  is  right  and  just  — 
nothing  that  you  should  not,  of  your  own  motive,  secure 
to  me  as  your  wife," —  was  the  tenor  of  all  her  answers. 
"  If  I  am  to  be  insulted  and  set  at  nought  here,  to  whom, 
pray,  are  you  to  look  for  the  integrity  of  your  home  ? 
Let  your  sons  deport  themselves  in  a  becoming  manner, 


234  NOTHING    BUT    MONEY. 

and  all  will  be  well.  If  they  do  not,  the  responsibility 
of  what  follows  is  with  you  and  them.  I  shall  wash 
my  hands  clear  of  all  stain." 

Adam  and  John  were  not  at  home  a  week,  before  the 
storm  hung  dark  above. 

Their  father  had  warned  and  admonished  them  faith 
fully  ;  but  they  were  not  of  those  who  profit  by  warning 
and  admonition.  Passion,  prejudice,  appetite  and  self- 
will,  were,  one  or  all,  their  counsellors.  In  order  to 
get  Adam  out  of  the  way  of  his  mother,  and  the  temp 
tation  to  annoy  her,  Mr.  Guy  gave  him  a  place  at  one 
of  the  desks  in  his  counting  room,  and  kept  him  fully  oc 
cupied  all  day.  This  was  a  highly  conservative  move 
ment  ;  and  if  Edwin,  now  fifteen  years  of  age  had  been 
sent  away  to  school,  Mrs.  Guy,  by  a  system  of  demoral 
izing  indulgences,  could  have  maintained  the  balance  of 
peace  with  John,  until  in  his  steadily  progressing  down 
ward  course,  he  reached  a  point  of  depravity  at  which 
his  father  would  cast  him  off.  In  this  way,  sooner  or 
later,  Mrs.  Guy  saw  that  John  would  be  disposed  of, 
and  thus  out  of  her  path.  But,  Edwin's  presence  at 
home,  united  as  she  had  prophesied,  the  forces  against 
her,  and  she  began  to  set  her  own  in  battle  array.  In 
this  she  was  the  superior  strategist,  and  wrought  silently, 
and  in  secret,  until  the  time  for  opening  the  contest  had 
arrived.  Non-combatant  she  appeared  to  be,  in  the 
eyes  of  John  and  Edwin,  who  made  one  advance  upon 
another  against  her  authority,  she  seeming  to  yield  as 
they  advanced,  until  she  had  them  completely  in  her 
power.  Let  us  see  how  the  position  stood. 

John's  humiliation  at  school,  did  not  make  him  shame- 


NOTHING    BUT   MONEY.  235 

faced  at  home.  He  had  lost,  even  at  his  early  age.  all 
sense  of  honor.  Appetite  and  passion  only  grew  more 
clamorous  from  restriction,  for  his  animal  nature  was  in 
the  ascendant.  His  father  cut  off'  all  supplies  of  pocket 
money,  this  being  the  only  way  to  punish  and  restrain 
that  he  could  devise  ;  and,  very  naturally  John  applied 
to  his  mother.  Instead  of  meeting  his  applications,  as 
in  former  times,  Mrs.  Guy  said  —  "  Go  to  your  father," 
—  thus  pushing  him  away  from,  instead  of  drawing  him 
near  to  her,  and  conciliating  him  by  indulgence.  So 
John  put  himself  in  opposition,  and,  out  of  a  revengeful 
spirit,  assailed  her,  on  all  fair  occasions,  with  annoyan 
ces  and  disrespect.  These  she  bore  with  a  quietness  that 
encouraged  John,  to  whom  Edwin,  a  weak,  but  not 
naturally  vicious  boy,  went  over,  and  grew  bold  in 
contemning  his  mother's  authority. 

"  John,"  said  Mrs.  Guy,  one  morning,  about  ten  days 
after  his  return  home,  "  go  to  my  room  and  bring  me  my 
purse.  You  will  find  it  in  the  left  hand,  small  drawer, 
of  my  bureau." 

"  Give  me  the  key."  John  was  advancing  towards 
her  ere  she  was  half  done  speaking.  Only  three  min 
utes  before,  he  had  refused  to  get  her  a  book  from  the 
library. 

"  The  drawer  is  not   locked,"  was  answered. 

With  a  springing  step  John  left  the  room,  and  in  a 
few  minutes  returned  with  the  purse. 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Mrs.  Guy,  as  she  took  it  from  his 
hand,  and  placed  it  in  her  pocket.  She  had  no  need  to 
examine  its  contents  to  be  assured  that  John  had  helped 
himself.  Eyes  like  hers  read  faces  as  if  they  were 
books. 


236  NOTHING    BUT    MONEY. 

In  less  than  twenty  minutes  John  and  Edwin  went 
out  together  and  were  gone  all  the  forenoon.  Mrs.  Guy 
knew  to  a  penny  ht>w  much  the  purse  contained  when 
it  came  into  John's  hand ;  for  she  had  counted  the  half 
dollars  and  bills  over  twice.  Two  half  dollars  and  a 
five  dollar  bill  were  missing.  A  gleam  of  satisfaction 
went  over  her  face  as  this  fact  was  ascertained,  and  she 
said  to  herself,  speaking  aloud  — 

"  As  I  expected." 

It  was  nearly  dinner  time  when  John  and  Edwin 
came  home.  John  was  self-possessed,  and  rather  jaun 
ty  ;  but  Edwin's  face  wore  a  shy  look,  and  there  was  an 
air  of  embarrassment  about  him  that  did  not  escape  the 
keen  eyes  of  his  step-mother.  Purposely,  she  drew  near 
the  two  boys,  so  as  to  get  their  breaths  in  speaking ; 
and  discovered,  what  she  had  already  suspected,  that 
they  had  been  drinking  some  kind  of  intoxicating  liquor. 
The  fact  did  not  shadow  her  placid  brow. 

John  was  quieter  than  usual  at  the  dinner  table. 
Occasionally,  Mrs-.  Guy  detected  a  look  of  inquiry,  sent 
across  to  her  half  covertly.  John  was,  evidently,  in 
uneasy  debate  on  the  question  as  to  her  knowledge  of 
his  guilty  inroad  on  her  purse. 

The  first  course  had  passed,  and  they  were  nearly 
through  with  the  dessert,  when  Mrs.  Guy,  without  pre 
liminary,  or  warning,  asked,  looking  at  John  — 

"  How  much  money  did  you  take  from  my  purse  this 
morning  ?  " 

The  suddenness  with  which  she  put  the  question  dis 
concerted  John.  His  face  grew  red,  and  there  was 
some  hesitation  of  manner,  ere  he  responded,  in  an  an 
gry,  repellant  tone,  — 


NOTHING    BUT    MONEY.  237 

"  I  don't  know  what  you  mean." 

"  You  went  to  my  drawer  this  morning  ?  "  said  Mrs. 
Guy,  without  the  slightest  sign  of  weakness  in  her  even 
tones. 

"  You  sent  me  to  your  drawer,"  asseverated  John,  ve 
hemently. 

"  I  know." 

"  You  asked  me  to  bring  your  purse.  Edwin  was 
present."  And  John  glanced  towards  his  brother,  whose 
pale  face  betrayed  his  knowledge  of,  and  participation  in 
wrong. 

"  Very  true  ;  and  you  brought  it.  My  question  re 
ferred  to  the  sum  you  took  therefrom  before  delivering 
it  into  my  hands." 

"  Not  one  dollar  !  "  said  John,  —  angry  and  positive  ; 
and  he  offered  a  startling  oath  in  confirmation  of  his 
denial,  shocking  and  astonishing  every  one  at  the  table. 

All  this  while  Mr.  Guy  had  remained  silent,  like  one 
half  stupefied.  Now  he  aroused  himself,  and  in  a  loud 
voice,  looking  at  John,  cried  out,  — 

"  Silence,  sir !  How  dare  you  use  such  language 
here  ?  " 

"  I  dare  anything  when  falsely  accused,  sir,"  answer 
ed  the  boy,  boldly. 

"  When  my  purse  was  taken  into  your  hands,  it  con 
tained  twenty-four  dollars ;  and  when  you  placed  it  in 
mine,  the  contents  were  reduced  to  eighteen,"  said  Mrs. 
Guy,  speaking  slowly  but  firmly.  "  Ten  minutes  before 
you  went  for  my  purse,  you  refused  to  get  me  a  book  from 
the  library  ;  but,  when  the  request  to  bring  my  purse  was 
made,  you  were  off  with  a  spring.  It  is  useless  for  you  to 


238  NOTHING    BUT    MONEY. 

deny  the  fact  of  taking  six  dollars.  I  saw  it  in  your  face, 
as  you  handed  me  my  purse.  In  a  little  while  after 
wards,  you  went  out  with  Edwin,  and  were  gone  all  the 
morning  —  spending  the  money  of  course,  and  not,  as 
I  have  satisfied  myself,  in  the  best  and  safest  way.  The 
stale  fumes  of  an  oyster  cellar  were  in  your  clothes,  and 
the  smell  of  liquor  on  your  breaths.  I  noted  the  fact 
well." 

John  alone,  might  have  braved  his  stepmother  out,  in 
positive  denial ;  but,  the  tell-tale  face  and  manner  of 
Edwin,  turned  his  father's  attention  to  him  ;  and  a  few 
sternly  put  queries  brought  out  a  clear  confession  of  the 
truth. 

"  There  is  only  one  safe  thing  to  be  done,"  said  Mrs. 
Guy,  to  her  husband,  when  they  were  alone.  "  Edwin 
must  be  saved  from  the  ruin  into  which  John  will  cer 
tainly  drag  him,  if  they  are  left  together.  Edwin  is 
weak  and  easily  influenced.  Since  John  came  home,  I 
see  a  change  for  the  worse  going  on  daily." 

"  I  shall  send  him  away  to  school,"  was  the  positive 
answer  of  Mr.  Guy.  "  He  must  not  remain  at  home 
for  a  single  week  longer.'' 

And  he  did  not.  Just  as  Mrs.  Guy  had  planned,  the 
event  came  out.  Edwin  was  sent  away  from  home, 
and  kept  as  liberally  supplied  with  pocket  money  by  his 
step-mother,  as  John  had  been.  Unhappily  for  the  fu 
ture  of  the  boy's  life,  the  effect  was  just  what  Mrs.  Guy 
designed  that  it  should  be.  Temptations  spread  them 
selves  all  along  his  unguarded  path,  and  his  feet  were 
ever  wandering;. 


•    CHAPTER  XXVII. 


OTW1THSTANDING  the  threatening 
attitude  assumed  by  Mrs.  Guy  —  not 
withstanding  the  marshalling  of  her  for 
ces  —  it  was  no  part  of  her  plan  to  risk 
a  serious  battle,  if  that  desperate  issue 
could  be  avoided.  By  a  resolute  bear 
ing  she  made  strategy  the  more  success 
ful.  The  fact,  that  Mr.  Guy  believed 
her  when  she  said  that  she  would  leave 
his  house  rather  than  permit  his  children  to  exercise  a 
dominant  influence,  caused  him  the  more  readily  to 
fall  in  with  her  wily  plans  for  removing  them  to  a  dis 
tance. 

For  awhile  John  held  himself  coldly  aloof  from  his 
stepmother  ;  but  she,  after  Edwin's  departure  for  school, 
gradually  broke  down  the  wall  of  angry  reserve  which 
he  had  thrown  up  between  them,  and  assumed  a  degree 
of  interest  in  the  boy  that,  with  a  little  indulgence  in 
spending  money,  laid  his  mind  open  to  almost  any  influ 
ence  she  might  choose  to  exercise. 

"  This  idle  life,  for  one  of  your  age,  is  dreadful, 
Jonn,"  she  said  to  him,  as  they  were  alone,  one  morn 
ing,  speaking  in  a  tone  of  interest. 

"  Oh,  well,  father's  rich  !  "  he  answered,  tossing  his 


240  NOTHING    BUT    MONEY. 

head  in  an  independent,  don't  care  sort  of  way  — 
"  there's  no  use  in  my  doing  anything.  A  gentleman's 
life  for  me." 

"  For  shame,  John  !  Anything  but  a  drone  or  an 
idler.  Adam  goes  to  the  counting-room  every  day."  t 

"  Adam  !  Pish  !  "  And  John  curled  his  lip.  "  He'd 
eat  dirt  for  a  dollar,  and  then  bury  the  money  after  it 
was  earned." 

"Adam  loves  money  too  well,  I  know,"  said  Mrs. 
Guy  ;  "  but  he's  willing  to  earn  it." 

"  Don't  quote  him  to  me,"  returned  John,  with  some 
impatience,  "  the  mean,  stingy  fellow  !  Let  him  earn 
his  money  and  keep  it,  if  he  will ;  but  don't  hold  him 
up  as  my  exemplar." 

"  I'll  tell  you  what  I've  been  thinking,  John,"  said 
his  stepmother,  changing  her  tone,  and  speaking  in  a 
way  meant  to  inspire  him  with  the  thought  in  her  mind. 
"  You'd  like  to  see  the  world,  I  know.  Every  young 
man  does.  Your  father's  firm  is  loading  a  vessel  for 
the  Pacific.  Now,  why  not  go  in  her  as  supercargo  ?  " 

John  started  up,  and  stood,  all  interest  for  a  moment 
or  two  ;  then  clapping  his  hands  together,  he  replied, 
while  a  warm  flush  came  into  his  face  — 

"  I'd  like  that !  But  — "  And  his  countenance 
changed  a  little. 

"What?" 

"  Father  would  say  no." 

"  I'm  not  so  sure  of  that,  John.  But,  would  you 
really  like  the  place  ?  " 

"  Of  supercargo  ?  " 

"Yes." 


NOTHING    BUT    MONEY.  241 

"Grandly!  I've  always  had  a  wish  logo  to  sea." 
There  was  an  eagerness  in  John's  manner  that  showed 
how  strongly  the  idea  was  taking  hold  of  him. 

*'  I  do  not  believe  that  your  father,  on  reflection,  will 
object,"  said  Mrs.  Guy. 

"  Will  you  ask  him  about  it  ?  " 

"  Yes.  And  I  think  you'd  better  leave  the  matter 
entirely  in  my  hands.  And,  first,  let  me  caution  you 
not  to  say  anything  on  the  subject  to  Adam.  He  has 
considerable  influence  with  your  father,  and  would  be 
sure  to  oppose,  if  only  for  the  sake  of  opposition." 

"  Oh,  I  understand  that !  He'd  thwart  me  out  of 
sheer  malignancy." 

Mrs.  Guy  did  not  throw  in  a  mollifying  word.  It 
was  no  part  of  her  mission  in  the  family  to  harmonize 
or  conciliate. 

"  I  will  manage  him,"  she  said,  in  the  tone  of  one 
who  felt  her  power  ;  "  only,  as  I  suggested,  keep  your 
own  counsel.  You  shall  go  as  supercargo  in  the  Ariel 
if  you  desire  it." 

"  I  do  desire  it  above  all  things,"  replied  John,  "  and 
if  you  will  get  father's  consent,  I'll  remember  you  as 
long  as  I  live." 

"  There  is  one  thing  I  would  suggest,  as  your  father 
will  have  to  be  managed  a  little  in  the  beginning,"  said 
Mrs.  Guy,  lowering  her  voice  in  a  confidential  way, 
and  speaking  with  an  unusual  familiarity,  "  and  that  is, 
an  assumption  of  indifference  on  your  part.  This  in 
difference,  may  have  to  take  the  form  of  opposition  be 
fore  all  is  settled ;  but,  I  will  give  you  the  right  hint  at 
the  right  time.  You  understand?" 
11 


242  NOTHING    BUT    MONEY. 

"  Perfectly." 

u  It  wont  strike  him  favorably  on  the  first  blush  ; 
but  I'll  engage  to  bring  him  over  to  our  way  of  think 
ing.  It  will  be  a  splendid  chance  to  see  the  world  and 
improve  yourself,  and  when  he  understands  this  there 
will  be  no  more  trouble." 

Mrs.  Guy  lost  no  time,  for  the  Ariel  was  already 
taking  in  cargo,  and  would  be  ready  for  sea  in  less  than 
two  weeks. 

"  This  idle  life  that  John  is  leading,  troubles  me  con 
tinually,"  said  Mrs.  Guy,  thus  opening  the  subject,  on 
the  next  occasion  of  being  alone  with  her  husband. 
"  It  will  be  his  destruction,  I  fear." 

A  shade  of  anxiety  passed  over  Mr.  Guy's  face,  but 
he  did  not  respond. 

"  Is  there  nothing  that  we  can  do  with  him  ?  " 

Mr.  Guy  shook  his  head. 

"  He'll  be  ruined  if  left  to  his  own  will  —  hopelessly 
ruined." 

The  voice  of  Mrs.  Guy  was  full  of  concern.  Still? 
her  husband  made  no  answer. 

"  How  would  it  do  to  send  him  out  as  supercargo  in 
one  of  your  vessels  ?  " 

"  It  wouldn't  do  at  all,"  was  Mr.  Guy's  quick  answer. 

"  I'm  not  so  sure  of  that,"  said  his  wife,  who  had 
expected  just  this  answer.  "  If  he  could  be  induced  to 
go,  it  might  be  his  salvation." 

"  Do  you  suppose  we'd  trust  a  boy  like  him  with  the 
disposal  of  a  cargo  ?  What  does  he  know  of  business  ?  " 

"  Of  course,"  answered  Mrs.  Guy,  not  in  the  least 
disconcerted,  "  you  would  send  him  with  an  experienced 


NOTHING    BUT    MONEY.  243 

captain,  who  would  be  the  real  man.  The  end  is  to 
save  the  boy ;  to  get  him  away  from  the  temptations 
that  now  beset  him  on  every  hand.  As  to  his  control 
of  the  cargo,  that  is  another  thing.  He  might  sail 
under  the  idea  of  full  powers,  while  the  captain  had 
orders  to  supersede  him  on  the  ship's  arrival  out.  Don't 
you  see,  how  safely  this  might  be  done  ?  My  only  fear 
is,  that  John  may  not  consent." 

"  He  will  not ;  on  that  you  may  rest  assured,"  said 
Mr.  Guy. 

"  If  he  were  to  consent  —  what  then  ?  How  does 
the  thing  strike  you,  on  reflection  ?  " 

"  Anything  to  get  him  away  from  the  dangers  of  this 
city." 

"  So  I  think.  Turn  it  over  in  your  thought,  Mr. 
Guy.  How  in  regard  to  the  captain  of  the  Ariel  ?  — 
Is  he  a  discreet  man  ?  " 

"  He  is  a  good  captain,"  was  replied. 

"  Does  he  need  a  supercargo  ?  " 

"  No.  The  ship  will  be  consigned  to  a  house  in 
Valparaiso." 

"  So  much  the  better.  John's  position  as  supercargo 
would  give  no  control  whatever,  and  might  be  so  ar 
ranged  with  the  captain  as  not  to  embarrass  him  in  any 
respect.  Take  the  captain  fully  into  your  counsels,  and 
let  him  manage  John  in  his  own  way  after  he  gets  him 
to  sea." 

"  You  talk  as  if  the  whole  matter  was  settled,"  said 
Mr.  Guy,  not  able  to  repress  a  tone  of  impatience. 

"  And  why  not,  if  right  to  be  done  ?  "  was  coolly 
answered.  "  You  can  make  all  fair  with  the  captain, 


244  NOTHING    BUT   MONEY. 

of  course.  That  part  is  easily  arranged.  The  serious 
difficulty  in  the  way  is  to  get  John's  consent." 

"  A  thing  not  to  be  hoped  for,  in  my  belief.  John  is 
too  fond  of  ease  and  self-indulgence,  to  risk  the  possible 
hardships  and  privations  of  a  trip  around  the  Horn." 

"  It  will  require  some  management."  This,  Mrs. 
Guy  admitted.  "  But,  if  you  can  arrange  with  the 
captain  to  let  John  go  as  nominal  supercargo  in  the 
Ariel,  I  will  undertake  to  bring  him  over  to  our  wishes." 

"  I  may  safely  promise  my  part  of  the  work,  then  ; 
for  I  have  no  faith  in  the  accomplishment  of  what  you 
propose." 

"  But,  Mr.  Guy,"  said  his  wife,  with  increasing  ear 
nestness  of  manner,  "  don't  you  think  it  would  be  of 
great  use  to  John  ?  " 

"  Perhaps  it  might  be  ;  but,  there's  no  telling." 

"  It  would  remove  him  from  temptation." 

"  Yes." 

"  And  bring  him  under  rigid  discipline." 

"I  don't  know  about  that.  'A  supercargo  is  not  a 
sailor,  ngr  even  subordinate  to  command  like  a  ship's 
officer." 

"  Oh,  as  to  that,  you  and  the  captain  could  under 
stand  each  other.  The  object  in  sending  him  to  sea 
must  not  be  forgotten.  '  I  think,  maybe,  it  will  be  just 
as  well  for  you  to  hint  the  matter  to  John  yourself,  and 
see  how  his  pulse  beats.  Perhaps  he  may  be  carried 
away  with  the  idea  as  a  novelty,  and  so  all  run  smoothly. 
But,  don't  urge  the  matter,  if  he  object,  or  seems  to 
consider  it  of  any  importance.  He  will  be  sure  to  say 
something  to  me  about  it." 


NOTHING    BUT    MONEY.  245 

"  And  go  dead  against  the  whole  thing,  should  you 
favor  it  in  the  least.  I  know  him.'' 

"  He's  not  apt  to  yield  in  favor  of  my  plans,  as  I'm 
aware,"  said  Mrs.  Guy.  "  But,  where  there's  a  will, 
there's  a  way,  and  I'll  undertake  to  manage  him." 

The  more  Mr.   Guy  thought  over  his  wife's  suo-o-es- 

J  o  &&> 

tion,  the  more  in  favor  of  sending  John  to  sea  did  he 
become.  As  he  dwelt  on  the  subject,  a  hope  for  the 
boy  kindled  in  his  mind  — a  hope  that  love  of  business 
and  gain  might  be  stimulated.  A  small  adventure  of 
his  own  might  be  entrusted  to  him,  with  direction  to 
invest  the  proceeds  in  merchandise  for  the  return  voy 
age.  This  view  was  dwelt  on,  until  it  looked  so  prom 
ising  that  Mr.  Guy  believed  in  its  power  to  save  his 
son.  If  by  any  means,  a  love  of  gain  could  be  stimu 
lated,  he  felt  sure  that  all  would  be  well.  He  had  an 
undying  faith  in  money.  It  was,  in  his  thought  the 
only  conservative  power.  No  concern  about  Adam's 
future  haunted  his  mind  ;  for  the  boy's  love  of  money 
was,  in  his  regard,  a  sure  protector. 

John  played  off  and  on  with  his  father,  according  to 
the  programme  of  his  stepmother,  and  affected  to  yield, 
finally,  with  a  great  deal  of  reluctance,  and  only  after 
securing  sundry  privileges  and  advantages,  which,  in 
the  beginning,  Mr.  Guy  never  thought  of  conceding. 

There  was  an  unusual  lightness  in  the  heart-beat  of 
Mrs.  Guy,  on  the  day  John  departed  in  the  Ariel. 
She  had  an  evil  faith  in  the  result  of  his  voyage.  If 
he  ever  came  home  at  all,  which  might  not  be,  she 
believed  that  he  would  come  home  so  much  worse  in 
morals  and  habits,  that  no  hope  for  his  manhood  would 


246  NOTHING    BUT   MONEY. 

remain  ;  and  so,  he  would  cease  to  stand  in  any  formi 
dable  manner  between  her  and  her  ambitions.  At  any 
rate,  he  was  out  of  her  way  for  a  year ;  and  she  took 
all  beyond  that  time  on  trust. 


CHAPTER   XXVIII. 


N  the  day  after  John's  departure,  Mrs. 
Guy  received  the  following  letter, 
without  signature.  It  came  from 
some  person  in  the  school  where  Ly- 
dia  had  been  placed  :  — 

"  MADAM  :  —  I  feel  it  my  duty  to 
say  that  your  daughter  Lydia  is  re 
ceiving  the  attentions  of  a  young  man 
in  this  neighborhood,  who  cannot  possibly  be  acceptable 
to  her  family.  To  my  certain  knowledge,  they  hold 
clandestine  interviews  at  night,  she  stealing  from  her 
room  at  a  late  hour,  to  join  him.  My  concern  for  her 
welfare,  prompts  me  to  send  you  this  information." 

Twice  did  Mrs.  Guy  read  this  communication,  with 
out  exhibiting  a  sign  of  disturbance.  Then,  taking  a 
match,  she  lighted  the  gas,  and  holding  the  letter  in  the 
flame  until  it  was  consumed,  flung  the  charred  flakes 
from  the  window. 

The  letter  was  anonymous,  and  behind  this  fact  Mrs. 
Guy  shielded  herself.  That  it  gave  her  the  exact  truth, 
she  did  not  question  for  an  instant ;  and  yet,  speaking 
in  her  external  thought,  she  said,  as  the  fire  devoured 
the  paper  — 


V 


248  NOTHING    BUT    MONEY. 

"  The  mean  accusation  of  some  jealous  girl,  afraid 
to  sign  her  name." 

Yet,  she  was  sure  in  her  heart  it  was  not  so ;  sure  in 
her  heart  that  Lydia  was  in  peril,  and  should  instantly 
be  brought  home.  A  week  passed,  and  then  came 
another  letter,  written  by  the  same  person,  but  without 
signature. 

"Fearing,"  she  said  —  the  writer  was  a  woman  — 
"  that  a  communication  sent  to  you  several  days  ago, 
may  have  failed  in  reaching  its  destination,  I  address 
you  again  on  the  subject  of  your  daughter,  now  at 
school  in  this  place.  Do  you  know  that  she  is  receiv 
ing  the  attentions  of  a  young  man  residing  here,  and 
that  she  is  in  the  habit  of  meeting  him  at  night,  clan 
destinely  ?  The  young  man  is  well  enough  in  his  way, 
but  not  the  one  that  you  could  accept  as  Lydia's  hus 
band.  Pray  look  to  the  matter  before  it  is  too  late  !  I 
have  now,  twice,  given  you  warning,  and  so  washed 
my  hands  clear  of  the  whole  matter." 

"  Anonymous !  "  And  Mrs.  Guy  shook  her  head. 
Alighted  match — the  gas  in  aflame — and  then  a 
little  handful  of  black  ashes  were  flung  from  the  window. 

"  It  wont  do,  my  jealous  young  lady."  A  cold  smile 
played  over  the  lips  of  Mrs.  Guy,  as  she  sat  down,  and 
took  up  a  book  that  she  had  been  reading. 

With  an  eager  interest,  that  absorbed  nearly  every 
thought,  did  Mrs.  Guy  wait  the  issue  which  she  believed 
to  be  at  hand.  If  Lydia  should  contract  a  clandestine 
marriage  with  a  young  man  having  neither  social  posi- 


NOTHING    BUT    MONEY.  249 

tion  nor  wealth,  the  anger  of  her  father  would  know  no 
bounds.  He  would  disown  and  disinherit  her  without 
remorse  ;  and  so,  she  would  be  oat  of  her  stepmother's 
way.  To  make  this  separation  permanent,  would  be  an 
easy  task  to  so  clear-seeing  and  unscrupulous  a  woman 
as  Mrs.  Guy.  She  had  not  very  long  to  wait.  One 
forenoon,  less  than  two  weeks  from  the  receipt  of  her 
last  anonymous  letter,  Mrs.  Guy  heard  the  street  door 
open,  with  a  rattle  of  her  husband's  key  in  the  lock, 
followed  by  his  heavy  tread,  quicker  than  usual.  He 
called  her,  as  lie  came  up  stairs,  and  she  answered  from 
her  chamber,  where  she  happened  to  be. 

The  forewarned  heart  of  Mrs.  Guy  guessed  truly  the 
meaning  of  this  unusual  appearance  of  her  husband. 
His  face  was  pale  and  agitated,  as  he  entered.  An  in 
stant,  he  glanced  around  the  room,  and  seeing  that  his 
wife  was  alone,  shut  and  locked  the  door.  Then  draw 
ing  a  letter  from  his  pocket,  he  thrust  it  into  Mrs.  Guy's 
hand,  saying,  in  a  desperate  kind  of  way  — 

"  Read  that !  " 

As  he  stalked  about  the  room,  like  an  animal  smart 
ing  with  pain,  his  wife  in  her  unruffled  way,  unfolded 
the  letter,  and  read  — 

«*  To  ADAM  GUY,  ESQ. 

"  DEAR  SIR  :  —  The  thing's  done,  now,  and  there's 

o  '  * 

no  helping  of  it.  I  married  your  daughter  last  night, 
and  she's  my  wife  forever.  I  love  her  as  my  life,  and 
all  for  herself  alone.  I  hope  you  will  not  be  angry  sir. 
I  couldn't  help  loving  her.  We  were  afraid  you 
wouldn't  consent,  and  as  we  couldn't  live  without  one 
11* 


250  NOTHING    BUT    MONEY. 

another,  we  took  the  risk  of  getting  married,  being  sure 
that  when  you  saw    how  we  loved    one    another,  and 
couldn't  live  apart,  you  would  forgive  us.     Dear  Lydia 
wants  me  to  write  first.     She  will  write  to-morrow. 
"  Affectionately,  your  dutiful  son, 

"  JAMES  BRADY." 

"  Well,  that's  a  nice  business,  upon  my  word  !  "  ejac 
ulated  Mrs.  Guy,  showing  considerable  feeling.  "  Is 
the  man  a  fool,  and  the  girl  mad  ?  " 

"  Confusion  !  Curse  him  !  "  Mr.  Guy  threw  the 
words  out  with  a  raging  force,  his  eyes  in  a  flame,  and 
white  spots  of  foam  on  his  lips.  "  Had  you  any  suspi 
cion  of  this,  madam  ?  "  He  glared  upon  her  like  a  de 
vouring  beast. 

"  I?  "     She  drew  her  form  to  its  utmost  height,  with 

o        * 

an  air  of  supreme  astonishment.  "  I,  sir  ?  What  do 
you  mean  by  such  a  question  ?  " 

"  Had  you  no  suspicion  of  this  ?  I  speak  plainly, 
don't  I  ?  " 

Mrs.  Guy  stepped  back  a  pace  or  two  from  the  half 
madman  who  confronted  her,  yet  without  removing  her 
eyes  from  his  distorted  countenance. 

"  The  words  are  plain  enough,"  she  said,  in  a  steady 
voice,  the  coldness  of  which  gave  a  chill  to  the  hot 
blood  of  her  husband.  "  But,  I  am  yet  in  doubt  as  to 
their  full  meaning.  Perhaps,  in  this  excitement,  you 
have  forgotten  who  I  am." 

Mr.  Guy  was  never  strong  enough  for  this  woman, 
when  she  set  herself  against  him.  In  all  the  contests 
which  had  occurred,  she  manifested  such  a  resolute 


NOTHING    BUT    MONEY.  251 

spirit,  and  showed  such  a  consciousness  of  possessing 
any  amount  of  reserved  force,  that  he  shrunk  from  a 
desperate  trial  of  strength.  And  so  it  was  now,  for  he 
did  not  again  repeat  his  accusing  interrogation,  but 
worked  down  his  excitement,  by  pacing  the  floor  rap 
idly.  Stopping,  at  length,  and  confronting  Mrs.  Guy, 
who  had  resumed  the  seat  from  which  she  had  risen,  he 
said,  with  bitter  emphasis  — 

"  I  disown  her  from  this  hour  !  I  cast  her  off  utter 
ly  !  She  shall  be  to  me  as  one  dead !  As  for  the  man, 
I  will  spurn  him  as  a  dog,  should  he  ever  cross  my 
path." 

"  She  is  still  your  child,''  said  Mrs.  Guy. 

"  Silence  !  "  The  fire  flashed  out  in  a  sudden  gleam. 
"  Don't  cross  me  here,  madam,  or  there'll  be  trouble 
between  us  !  She  is  my  child  no  longer.  A  beggar's 
wife,  let  her  live  and  die  a  beggar,  for  all  I  care." 

"  It's,  a  hard  thing  to  bear.  What  could  have  pos 
sessed  the  girl  ?  "  Mrs.  Guy  dropped  in  these  senten 
ces  skillfully. 

"  The  devil  possessed  her,"  said  Mr.  Guy,  brutally. 

Mrs.  Guy  covered  her  face  with  her  hands,  and  ac 
tually  expressed  a  few  tears." 

."  None  of  that  with  me,  madam  !  It  wont  do.  The 
girl  has  made  her  bed,  and  she'll  have  to  lie  in  it,  even 
to  the  end. 

"  She  is  so  young,"  suggested  Mrs.  Guy. 

"  There  !  there  !  None  of  that,  I  say  !  "  Mr.  Guy 
spoke  with  angry  impatience. 

Enough  for  appearances  had  been  advanced  by  this 
designing  and  cruel  woman  ;  and  so,  she  said  no  more, 
but  let  her  husband's  indignation  have  free  course. 


252  NOTHING    BUT    MONEY. 

It  soon  became  apparent  to  Mrs.  Guy  that  this  act 
of  Lydia's  had  touched  her  father  very  deeply.  If  he 
had  felt  regard  for  one  of  his  children  more  than  for 

O 

another,  Lydia  might  be  called  the  favorite ;  and  she 
was  not  to  be  cast  off  utterly  without  pain.  She  no 
ticed  an  unusually  drooping  forward  of  his  head,  as  if 
a  weight  were  resting  on  his  shoulders ;  and  a  severe 
abstraction  of  manner,  from  which,  if  he  was  disturbed, 
he  came  out  with  an  unchecked  impatience. 

Two  days  after  the  letter  from  Lydia's  husband  was 
received,  one  came  from  Lydia  herself.  The  post-mark, 
and  hand-writing  in  the  direction,  indicating  its  source, 
Mr.  Guy,  without  breaking  the  seal,  enclosed  it  in  an 
envelop,  and  sent  it  back,  unaccompanied  by  a  word. 

Two  weeks  had  passed.  Mrs.  Guy  sat  in  the  midst 
of  her  own  children,  three  in  number,  with  her  thought 
dwelling  in  their  future,  \vhich  she  resolved  to  make 
sunny  and  pi'osperous,  no  matter  what  other  skies  were 
darkened,  or  what  other  rights  sacrificed,  when  the 
door  was  flung  open,  and  Lydia  came  hastily  towards 
her,  across  the  room. 

"  Oh,  mother  !  "  fell  eagerly  from  her  lips. 

But  Mrs.  Guy  lifted  her  hands  in  a  repulsive  attitude, 
and  partly  turning  away,  said  icily  — 

"  Don't  come  near  me  !  " 

"  Oh,  mother  !  "  repeated  Lydia,  in  a  choking  voice, 
stopping  midway  of  the  room. 

"  Don't  say  mother  to  me.  I  am  not  your  mother  !  " 
Lydia  had  never  seen,  in  the  face  of  her  step-mother, 
such  malignancy  and  hate  as  now  smote  upon  her.  All 
disguise  was  thrown  off ;  as  she  felt,  so  she  looked  —  a 


NOTHING    BUT    MONEY.  253 

cruel  and  unrelenting  enemy.  "  You  have  dug  an  im 
passable  gulf  between  us,  and  it  will  lie  there  forever. 
Go  from  this  house  !  You  h'ave  neither  part  nor  lot  in 
it.  It  is  your  home  no  longer.  A  wicked,  disobedi 
ent  child,  must  take  the  punishment  that  is  her  due." 

A  few  moments  Lydia  stood  in  a  kind  of  maze. 
Then  a  wild  look  of  despair  swept  into  her  face,  as  if 
suddenly  conscious  of  a  new  and  fearful  condition,  from 
which  escape  was  hopeless. 

"  Go  !  "  The  right  hand  of  her  stepmother  waved, 
in  imperious  enforcement  of  the  command. 

"  I  must  see  my  father,"  said  Lydia,  rallying  herself, 
and  speaking  with  some  firmness  of  tone. 

"  Oh,  very  well !  "  replied  the  stepmother,  mocking 
ly.  "  See  him,  if  you  will.  Call  in  the  evening,  when 
he  is  at  home." 

"  I  will  wait  until  then,"  said  Lydia. 

"  Excuse  me,  no  !  You  cannot  wait  until  then.  My 
word  is  law  here  ;  and  I  say  that  you  cannot  remain 
for  even  one  hour  under  this  roof.  So,  take  your  de 
parture  !  M 

Literally  staggering  back,  in  a  sudden  weakness,  from 
the  wolfish  eye  of  her  stepmother,  Lydia  went  from  the 
apartment.  Mrs.  Guy  followed,  to  see  that  she  left  the 
house,  and  literally  pursued  her  to  the  very  street  door. 

The  poor  misguided  child  had  come  alone,  to  the 
city,  in  order  to  get  reconciled,  if  possible,  to  her  fath 
er  and  stepmother.  What  of  her  marriage  ?  Was 
there  any  hope  in  it  ?  Any  basis  of  character  or  mor 
al  quality  in  the  young  man  to  whom  she  had  given  in 
trust  the  well-being  of  her  life  ?  Not  much  basis,  we 


254  NOTHING    BUT   MONEY. 

regret  to  say.  He  was,  however,  rather  weak  than 
wrong  ;  and  under  right  external  influences,  would  have 
made  a  man  of  ordinary  standing  —  good  enough  in 
his  way,  but  of  no  force  in  society.  His  education  was 
defective,  and  he  lacked  both  the  ambition,  and  mental 
activity,  which  lead  to  self-improvement.  The  easiest 
way  for  a  young  man  to  get  along  in  the  world,  who 
has  not  the  ability  to  advance  himself,  is  to  marry  a  rich 
wife.  At  least,  such  is  a  current  opinion.  Young 
Brady  chose  this  method,  and  finding  in  Lydia  Guy  a 
fair  subject  for  conquest,  set  himself  to  the  task  of  win 
ning  her  favor.  He  understood  some  of  the  arts  to  be 
used,  and  was  successful,  Lydia  fell  into  the  snare  laid 
for  her  feet,  and  forgetful  of  prudence  and  duty,  cast 
the  fatal  die  that  changed,  in  an  instant,  her  whole  re 
lation  to  society.  Alas,  poor  child  !  Not  for  herself 
had  she  been  wooed  and  won  ;  but  for  the  money  which 
her  sordid  and  mean-spirited  suitor  believed  would  ac 
company  her  hand.  She  had  come  alone,  as  we  have 
said,  in  order  to  effect  a  reconciliation.  The  distance 
from  the  town  in  which  she  had  been  going  to  school 
was  over  two  hundred  miles,  and  it  had  taken  all  the 
money  that  remained  in  her  possession,  to  pay  the  ex 
pense  of  getting  home.  Lydia  had  expected  anger, 
harsh  words,  and  stern  rebuke  ;  but  was  not  prepared 
for  an  absolute  expulsion  from  her  father's  house.  No 
wonder  that  she  staggered  away  from  the  door  with  un 
steady  feet ;  nor  that  people  turned  and  looked  after 
her,  strangely.  Where  was  she  to  go  ?  It  was  over 
two  years  since  she  left  home  for  school,  and  in  that 
time,  girlish  friendships  in  the  city  had  died  out. 


NOTHING    BUT    MONEY.  255 

Moreover,  the  selfish  isolation  in  which  her  father  had 
chose  to  live,  had  so  circumscribed  their  friends  and 
neighborly  relations,  that  Lydia  was  little  more,  at  this 
time,  than  an  unknown  one,  in  the  place  of  her  nativity. 

Where  then,  was  she  to  go  ?  Alas,  for  the  poor 
child !  there  was  not,  in  all  that  great  city,  a  single 
door  at  which  she  might  enter,  in  confidence  of  a  wel 
come  such  as  she  needed  under  the  circumstances. 
There  were  some  families,  where,  at  mention  of  her 
name,  she  would  have  been  received  with  formal  po 
liteness  ;  but,  she  shrunk  from  an  exposure  of  herself, 
and  so,  exhausted  with  long  travel,  and  faint  from  heart- 
sickness,  went  wandering  from  street  to  street,  in  the 
long  afternoon  of  a  warm  June  day,  until  the  burden 
of  weariness  was  so  great,  that  it  seemed  to  her  she 
must  fall  by  the  way.  Many  times,  she  more  than 
half  resolved  to  seek  her  father  at  his  counting-room  | 
but  a  dread  of  exposing  herself  there,  held  her  back. 

Four  long  hours  of  wandering  in  the  street,  and  then, 
almost  blind  with  headache,  and  scarcely  able  to  stand 
from  exhaustion,  Lydia  came  a  second  time,  to  her 
father's  door.  It  was  now  in  the  fast  deepening  twi 
light,  and  the  day's  warmth  had  given  place  to  the  eve 
ning's  colder  atmosphere,  in  which  she  shivered  as  if 
ague-stricken.  Timidly  she  rung  the  bell — timidly, 
in  sad  consciousness  that  her  right  to  enter  was  now  a 
questioned  right.  She  did  not  know  the  servant  who 
opened  the  door. 

"  Is  my  father  in  ?  "  she  asked,  making  a  movement 
to  enter.  But,  quickly  pressing  the  door  against  her, 
the  servant  said,  almost  roughly, 


256  NOTHING    BUT    MONEY. 

"  You  can't  get  in,  Miss.  Your  father  will  not  see 
you.  So,  don't  come  here  again."  And  then  shut  the 
door  in  her  face. 

At  this  moment  Adam  came  up  the  steps. 
"  Oh,   Adam !  "    exclaimed   the   wretched  creature, 
reaching  her  hands  eagerly  towards   her  brother.     But 
he    retreated  from  her  as  from  a  thing    polluted  and 
scorned. 

"  Don't  touch  me  !  "  he  said,  roughly  ;  and  then  hur 
rying  past  her,  entered  and  closed  the  door. 

"  I  must  go  in  !  I  must  see  father  !  "  murmured 
Lydia,  rallying  herself  in  desperation  ;  and  springing  to 
the  bell,  she  rang  it  vigorously.  But  no  one  came. 
Again  she  rang,  but  the  door  remained  shut.  Faint, 

O  O'  ' 

and  frightened  at  her  alarming  ppsition  —  thus  homeless 
and  the  night  falling  —  Lydia  stood  for  several  minutes, 
leaning  against  the  iron  railing.  Then,  with  slow,  hesi 
tating  steps;  halting  and  faltering,;  faint,  and  dim- 
sighted  from  pain  and  weakness,  she  moved  aimlessly 
away,  losing  herself  in  dusky  streets,  down  on  which  the 
darkness  was  rapidly  falling. 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 

IS  we  sow  in  life,  so  reap  we  in  the 
surely  coining  harvest  times  —  good 
fruit  if  the  seed  be  good  ;  evil  fruit  if 
the  seed  be  evil.  The  law  works  with 
unfailing  certainty. 

True  as  this  proved  in  the  case  of 
Adam  Guy,  it  was  also  true  in  the 
case  of  Dr.  Hofland.  As  the  one 
c  ^o  sowed  tares  in  his  field,  and  found 
tares  in  midsummer  and  approaching  autumn ;  so  the 
other,  having  scattered  wheat  in  his  well  prepared  fields, 
gathered,  in  reaping  time,  full-eared  sheaves  of  golden 
grain. 

That  one  sharp  experience  in  life  proved  quite  effec 
tual.  Never  again  did  the  Doctor  permit  taste,  ambi 
tion  to  make  a  good  appearance,  or  a  covetous  desire 
for  things  beyond  his  ability  to  purchase,  tempt  him 
from  the  path  of  safety.  Debt,  after  being  once  freed 
from  its  shackles,  became  an  unknown  element  in  his 
life  ;  and  warned  by  the  memories  of  the  past,  he  forced 
upon  himself  a  well  considered  rule  of  expenditure, 
which  always  left  him  at  the  year's  end  a  little  better 
off  than  at  its  beginning.  Thus,  he  remained  free  from 
anxieties  and  humiliating  embarrassments,  and  so  kept 


258  NOTHING    BUT    MONEY. 

his  mind  above  the  depressing  influences  of  care,  that 
he  could  enter  with  full  vigor  into  the  spirit  of  his  pro 
fession,  and  keep  pace  with  its  higher  developments. 

Some  years  before  the  period  at  which  we  have  now 
arrived,  the  Doctor  moved  a  second  time  from  the  hum 
ble  home  in  which  he  had  twice  started  in  the  world. 
In  going  up,  on  this  occasion,  the  step  was  taken  in  all 
assurance  that  it  was  safe  and  right.  His  practice  was 
largely  on  the  increase,  and  he  had  a  sum  of  money  in 
bank  considerably  above  the  amount  needed  for  extra 
furnishing.  From  his  fall  he  arose  again,  wiser  and  wa 
rier.  The  discipline  of  a  temporary  misfortune,  with  its 
sharp  humiliations  and  self-revealings,  made  him  a  tru 
er,  stronger  and  clearer  seeing  man.  Out  of  the  valley 
he  came,  and  stopped  not  in  ascending,  until  he  stood 
far  above  the  place  from  which  he  had  fallen. 

And  sweet,  also,  had  been  to  Lena,  the  uses  of  adver 
sity.  She  had  arisen,  likewise,  into  a  purer  spiritual 
atmosphere,  and  now  saw  with  clearer  vision.  And 
thus,  ascending,  she  had  drawn  nearer  to  her  husband. 
As  his  mind  grew  more  and  more  in  love  with  nobler 
things  —  as  he  grew  wiser  in  the  knowledge  of  those 
sublime  truths  which  lead  men  up  to  an  interior  ac 
knowledgement  of  God  as  the  source  of  all  life,  she 
found  increased  pleasure  in  communing  with  his 
thoughts  ;  and  in  the  light  of  them,  saw  ravishing  forms 
of  spiritual  beauty  unrevealed  to  her  own  unaided  vi 
sion.  More  and  more  were  they  growing  into  a  oneness 
of  life.  He,  the  wise-seeing ;  and  she,  the  wisdom- 
loving.  Two  minds  were  blending  into  one,  in  a  sweet 
foretaste  of  eternal  unity.  Pleasant  and  instructive 


NOTHING   BUT   MONEY.  259 

would  it  be  to  dwell  with  them  for  a  brief  season  ;  to 
look  into  their  daily  lives,  and  breathe  in  the  tranquil 
atmosphere  with  which  they  were  surrounded.  But 
events  bear  us  onward. 

The  Doctor  was  coming  home  from  a  visit  in  the 
neighborhood,  just  after  dark,  when,  in  passing  a  young 
woman,  he  noticed  something  in  her  face  and  manner 
that  excited  his  interest.  Her  movements  were  slow 
and  uncertain  ;  and  the  look  of  exhaustion  and  almost 
despair  that  he  saw  on  her  countenance,  as  the  light  of 
a  gas  lamp  revealed  it  to  him  for  a  moment,  left  on  his 
feelings  a  most  painful  impression.  The  face  was  that 
of  a  child  rather  than  of  a  woman. 

"  So  young  !  "  He  sighed  to  himself,  as  he  moved 
on,  the  thought  of  sin  and  shame  crossing  his  mind,  and 
sendino-  to  his  heart  a  shade  of  sadness. 

o 

There  was  more  than  his  usual  tenderness  in  the  man 
ner  of  Doctor  Hofland,  as  his  lips  touched  the  pure  lips 
of  his  daughter  Lena,  on  entering  his  home  a  few  min 
utes  afterwards. 

"  Must  you  go  out  again  to-night,  father  ?  "  said 
Lena,  drawing  her  arm  within  his,  after  they  had  risen 
from  the  tea  table,  and  holding  him  half  playfully  and 
half  earnestly  back  from  the  hall  into  which  he  was 
about  passing. 

"  Yes,  dear ;  there  are  two  or  three  patients  who  must 
be  seen,"  answered  the  Doctor. 

"  Don't  stay  long,"  urged  Lena.  "  It  seems  as  if 
we  never  could  have  you  in  the  evening." 

"  I'll  be  home  in  an  hour." 

"  And  that  will  be  past  nine  o'clock,"  said  Lena, 
with  a  shade  of  disappointment  in  her  tones. 


260  NOTHING    BUT   MONEY. 

"  We  can  make  a  long  evening  after  that,  if  we  will," 
was  smilingly  answered. 

"  I'm  not  so  sure  of  that,"  returned  Lena.  "  Ten  to 
one,  the  office  will  be  full  of  patients  when  you  get 
back  ;  or  there'll  be  a  call  on  the  slate." 

"  In  which  case,  dear,  let  us  not  only  be  thankful 
that  the  blessing  of  health  is  ours ;  but  that,  in  God's 
providence,  I  have  power  to  help  the  sick  and  suffer- 
ing." 

"  I'm  very  selfish,  I  know,"  answered  Lena,  as  she 
relaxed  the  firm  hold  with  which  she  had  grasped  her 
father's  arm  ;  "  but  it  is  such  a  pleasure  to  have  you  at 
home  in  the  evening." 

"  And  such  a  pleasure  to  stay,"  replied  her  father. 
"  Duty  first,  however."  And  taking  his  hat  he  went 
out.  Doctor  Hofland  had  only  gone  a  short  distance, 
when  he  noticed  the  same  young  person  who  had  at 
tracted  his  attention  not  long  before.  She  was  standing 
at  one  of  the  street  corners,  and  seemed  either  awaiting 
some  one,  or  to  be  in  a  state  of  indecision.  As  he  pass 
ed,  he  drew  near  and  made  an  effort  to  look  into  her 
face,  but  she  started,  with  a  timid  air,  and  turning,  walk 
ed  slowly  down  an  unfrequented  street.  The  Doctor 
stood  still  and  looked  after  her,  feeling  so  much  inclined 
to  follow  that  he  nearly  yielded  to  the  impulse.  But, 
moving  on  his  way  again,  he  said,  in  his  thought, 

'•'  Poor  child  !     There  is  something  wrong." 

Scarcely  satisfied  with  himself  for  letting  an  oppor 
tunity  to  help  or  save  an  unfortunate  one,  which  Prov 
idence  had  placed  in  his  way,  pass  unimproved,  the  Doc 
tor  walked  onward,  conscious  of  an  unusual  pressure  on 


NOTHING    BUT    MONEY.  261 

his  feelings.  Two  visits  were  made,  and  he  then  cross 
ed  to  a  part  of  the  city  somewhat  remote  from  that  por 
tion  in  which  he  lived.  It  was  later  than  anticipated, 
when  he  returned  to  his  own  neighborhood,  and  he  was 

O  ' 

walking  with  a  quicker  step  than  usual.  Suddenly  he 
stood  still.  A  cry  had  fallen  on  his  ears  ;  a  cry  of  ter 
ror  —  and  the  voice  was  a  woman's.  He  looked  in  all 
directions,  but  could  not  determine  from  whence  it  came. 
Then  it  was  repeated,  and  nearer,  coming  from  an  ad 
joining  street,  to  which  he  hastened.  At  the  corner, 
he  met  the  same  young  wroman  who  had  twice  before 
attracted  his  attention.  She  was  running  in  a  wild  way. 
Seeing  the  Doctor,  she  fled  to  his  side  and  caught  hold 
of  him,  crying  out, 

"  Oh,  sir  !     Protect  me,  for  heaven's  sake  !  " 
Two  men  followed  quickly,  pausing  for  a  moment,  as 
if  to  lay  hold  of  her.     But,  on  a  closer  view  of  Doctor 
Hofland,  they  moved  away  without  speaking,   crossed 
the  street,  and  stood  still  on  the  other  side. 

The  Doctor  felt  the  girFs  hand  shaking  on  his  arm, 
as  they  clung  to  him  with  a  tight  grip  ;  and  she  pressed 
against  him  in  a  wav  that  he  understood  to  be  from  sud- 

o  * 

den  prostration  of  strength. 

"  Who  are  you  ?  "  he  asked,  in  a  kind  voice. 

"  Do  you  know  Mr.  Guy  ?  —  Adam  Guy  ?  "  The 
choking  voice  that  put  the  question  trembled  so  that  it 
was  scarcely  articulate. 

The  truth  —  or,  at  least  a  part  of  the  truth  flashed 
over  the  Doctor's  mind  in  an  instant.  This  was  Lydia's 
child !  He  saw,  in  the  dim  light,  her  mother's  old  look 
in  her  face. 


262  NOTHING    BUT    MONEY. 

"  Not  Lydia  Guy  ?  "  he  said,  in  unveiled  astonish 
ment. 

"  O,  sir,  do  you  know  my  father  ?  "  And  the  wretch 
ed  girl  held  on  closer  to  his  arm,  and  leaned  still  more 
heavily  against  him. 

"  What  does  this  mean,  Lydia  ?  Why  are  you  wan 
dering  alone  in  the  street,"  asked  the  Doctor,  assuming 
a  serious  tone. 

"  Are  you  Doctor  Hofland  ?  "  said  the  girl,  with  a 
hopeful  thrill  in  her  voice. 

"  Yes,  child.     I  am  Doctor  Hofland." 

"  O,  sir  !  Wont  you  take  me  home  for  to-night! 
I've  no  place  to  go.  My  father  is  offended  ;  and  they 
wont  let  me  see  him.  I  came  home  from  school  to-day ; 
but  they  wont  let  me  in.  I've  been  walking  the  street 
for  hours.  O,  sir ;  for  the  love  of  heaven  have  mercy 
on  me !  Let  me  stay  at  your  house  to-night,  and  to 
morrow  1  will  go  away.  I'm  not  wicked,  sir !  " 

'  Poor  child  !  "  said  Doctor  Hofland,  with  a  sob  in  his 
voice,  as  he  drew  her  hand  within  his  arm,  "  come  home 
with  me.  For  your  mother's  sake  Mrs.  Hofland  will 
give  you  a  mother's  welcome."  And  with  Lydia  almost 
clinging  to  him,  the  Doctor  moved  on  again. 

"  Home  from  school  to-day  ?  "  asked  the  Doctor. 
"  Did  I  so  understand  you  ?  " 

"  Not  exactly  from  school,"  Lydia  answered,  in  evi 
dent  embarrassment.  "  I  left  school  nearly  three  weeks 
ago." 

"  To  get  married  ?  "  The  truth  suggested  itself  to 
the  Doctor's  mind. 

"  Yes,  sir."     Faintly. 


NOTHING    BUT    MONEY.  263 

"  In  opposition  to  your  father's  wishes  ?  "  said  the 
Doctor. 

"  Yes,  sir  ;  or,  at  least  without  his  knowledge." 

"  That  was  bad,  bad,  Lydia.     I'm  sorry." 

She  did  not  respond,  and  they  kept  on  in  silence. 

"  This  is  my  house,"  said  the  Doctor,  at  length,  as  he" 
paused.  A  painful  sense  of  her  humiliated  condition 
was  now  so  strongly  felt  by  Lydia,  that  she  drew  back, 
murmuring  — 

"  O,  sir,  I  can't  go  in  !  Take  me  to  my  father's ! 
He  wont  let  me  die  in  the  street !  " 

"  Have  you  seen  him  ?  "  asked  the  Doctor. 

"  No,  sir  !  My  stepmother  drove  me  from  the  house  ; 
and  when  I  went  back  again,  the  servant  refused  to  let 
me  in." 

Dr.  Hofland  reflected  for  some  moments,  as  to  what 
were  best  to  be  done. 

"  I  think  you  had  better  remain  with  us  to-night,  and 
open  your  heart  freely  to  Mrs.  Plofland,"  said  he,  in  an 
swer.  She  was  your  mother's  friend,  and  will  be  a  true 
friend  to  you.  You  are  in  no  condition  to  walk 
farther." 

Thus  urged,  Lydia  yielded,  and  went  in  with  the 
Doctor.  Leaving  her  in  one  of  the  parlors,  the 
kind-hearted  physician  sought  for  his  wife,  and,  in  a  few 
hurried  sentences,  informed  her  of  Lydia's  presence  in 
the  house,  and  the  cause  thereof.  Mrs.  Hofland,  the 
moment  she  clearly  understood  her  husband,  ran  down 
stairs.  Glancing  hastily  about  the  parlor,  she  saw  Lydia 
in  a  half  reclining  position,  on  the  sofa.  Springing  for 
ward,  she  caught  her  in  her  arms,  and  thus  prevented 


264  NOTHING    BUT    MONEY. 

her  falling  forward  on  the  floor.       The  intense  strain 

~ 

of  mind  and  body,  from  which  she  had  suffered  for 
hours,  being,  removed,  Lydia  had  sunk  down  quickly  ; 
and  when  Mrs.  Hofland  received  her  in  her  arms,  every 
outward  sense  was  locked. 

"  Better  for  her  peace,"  said  Dr.  Hofland,  as  he  stood 
looking  upon  the  white  face  of  Lydia,  after  she  had 
been  removed  to  a  chamber,  "  were  there  no  waking 
time  for  her  in  this  world  !  Poor  child  !  " 

A  slight  convulsion  moved  over  her  face,  even  while 

o  * 

he  spoke. 

"  God  knows  what  is  best,"  he  added,  in  a  half  regret 
ful  voice,  as  he  recognized  this  sign  of  returning  an 
imation,  "  and  He  will  temper  the  winds  to  the  shorn 
lamb." 

Then  there  were  sighs,  and  low  meanings  and  mut- 
terings,  as  of  one  awaking  from  a  sleep,  which  had  been 
haunted  by  troubled  dreams  ;  then,  the  veil  of  uncon 
sciousness  was  lifted,  and  she  looked  out  upon  life  again 
—  looked  out,  in  surprise  and  tears. 

Wronged  and  unhappy  child  !  What  a  strange  thrill 
pervaded  her  heart,  as  Mrs.  Hofland  drew  her  arm  un 
der  her  neck,  and  held  her  head  lovingly  against  her 
bosom,  kissing  her,  and  weeping  over  her,  for  humanity's 
and  her  mother's  sake.  Love  —  tender,  outmishinor  love, 

'  O  O  ' 

she  had  never  known  ;  and,  as  pity  took  the  form  of 
love,  her  heart  swelled  and  pulsated  with  new  emotions. 
<J  Is  this  a  dream  ?  "  she  said,  as  thought  grew  clear, 
and  she  looked  from  the  face  of  Mrs.  Hofland,  to  that 
of  her  husband.  "  Where  am  I  ?  What  does  it  mean  ? 
Yes —  yes  !  —  I  understand  !  "  And,  covering  her  face, 
she  sobbed  bitterly. 


NOTHING  BUT  MONEY.  265 

"  Be  calm,  my  dear,"  said  Mrs.  Hofland,  affectionately. 
*'You  are  with  friends.  Rest  and  sleep  for  to-night, 
are  what  you  need."  And  she  kissed  her. 

Lydia  shut  her  eyes.  How  like  she  was  to  her 
mother  !  It  seemed,  to  Lena's  vision,  that  it  was  indeed 
the  Lydia  of  her  girlish  days,  who  now  lay  so  pale  and 
still  before  her.  Gently,  and  lovingly,  did  her  hand  pass 
over  forehead  and  temples,  smoothing  back  the  clamp 
hair,  with  soft,  caressing  tones. 

"  Oh,  it  is  so  hard/'  suddenly  exclaimed  Lydia, 
starting  up  in  bed,  the  tears  flowing  over  her  checks.- 
"  1  can't  endure  the  thought,  indeed,  I  can't !  " 

"  What  thought,  my  child  ?  "  asked  Mrs.  Hofland, 
striving,  as  she  spoke,  to  press  the  unhappy  creature 
back  upon  her  pillow. 

"  The  thought  of  being  turned  away  from  my  father's 
door,  as  if  I  were  one  of  the  vilest !  Left  in  the  street, 
without  friends  or  a  home,  to  die,  or  meet  a  worse  fate  ! 
Can  you  imagine  a  thing  so  cruel  ?  It  was  not  my  fath 
er  ?  No  —  no  !  hard  as  he  may  be,  he  is  not  so  iron- 
hearted  as  that." 

"  To-morrow,  we  will  talk  of  this,  dear ;  not  to-night," 
said  Mrs.  Hofland —  "  you  are  worn  down,  and  excited. 
Rest  and  sleep  are  now  demanded.  And  she  gently 
bore  her  down  again  upon  the  bed.  "Thank  God, 
that  friends  unlocked  for  have  been  found  —  friends*  who 
will  be  true  unto  the  last.  I  loved  your  mother  very 
tenderly,  and  will  love  you,  also,  if  you  will  lean  upon 
me,  and  trust  in  me.  Out  of  this  bitter  experience, 
God  may  lead  you  into  unfailing  pleasures.  This  may 
be  only  the  beginning  of  a  better  and  truer  life.  The  way 
12 


266  NOTHING    BUT    MONEY. 

to  mountain  heights,  is  often  first  down  into  dark  and 
gloomy  valleys,  out  of  which  the  soul  comes  weeping 
and  trembling ;  but,  God's  angels  were  with  it  in  the 
descent,  its  guides  and  comforters." 

And,  in  such  loving  and  true  words,  Mrs.  Hofland 
won  the  confidence  of  Lydia,  and  soothed  her  into  quiet. 
O'erwearied  nature  did  the  rest,  locking  her  senses  in 
sleep. 

Morning  found  Mrs.  Hofland  early  at  Lydia's  bed 
side. 

"  You  are  not  well,"  she  said,  with  undisguised  con 
cern,  as  she  looked  into  her  flushed  face,  and  heavy 
eyes.  "  Your  hands  are  quite  hot,"  she  added. 

"  My  head  aches  badly,"  was  the  languid  reply. 

"  Have  you  been  awake  long  ?  " 

"  Yes,  ma'am  ;  a  good  while." 

"  The  Doctor  must  see  you,"  said  Mrs.  Hofland, 
turning  away. 

"  Oh  no,  ma'am  ;  I  shall  be  better  when  I  get  up  ;  " 
and  Lydia  made  a  movement  to  arise,  but  fell  back, 
with  a  low  moan. 

"  Nothing  but  what  I  expected,"  said  Doctor  Hofland, 
when  his  wife  informed  him  of  Lydia's  condition.  "  It 
results  from  excessive  fatigue,  and  mental  excitement. 
She  must  be  kept  as  quiet  as  possible." 

"  Will  you  see  her  father  this  morning  ?  "  asked  Mrs. 
Hofland.  " 

"  He  must  be  informed  of  his  daughter's  presence 
here  ;  but,  I  have  not  yet  decided  whether  to  see  him, 
or  send  him  a  note." 

"  It  would  be  best  to  see  him,  I  think,"  said  Mrs. 
Hofland. 


NOTHING    BUT    MONEY.  267 

"  I'm  not  sure  in  regard  to  that.  A  brief,  rather  un 
satisfactory  note,  would  set  him  to  thinking  ;  and,  by 
the  time  he  made  his  appearance  here,  if  he  should  con 
clude  to  come,  his  mind  would  be  in  a  better  condition 
to  hear  all  I  might  feel  inclined  to  say,  than  if  there  had 
been  no  preparation  for  the  interview." 

'•'  As  you  think  best,"  said  the  Doctor's  wife — "but, 
I  have  no  faith  in  any  reconciliation  between  Lydia  and 
her  family.  If  this  marriage  is,  as  I  suspect,  with  a 
person  in  humble  life,  the  indignation  of  Mr.  Guy  will 
know  no  bounds.  If  he  is  penniless,  so  to  speak,  the 
act  will  not  be  forgiven.  The  daughter  may  be  suffered 
to  come  home,  after  a  period  of  banishment,  but  her 
husband,  never.  So  long  as  the  sin  of  poverty  stains 
his  garments,  he  will  be  held  off,  as  one  despised  and 
contemned." 

"  I  fear  as  much,"  answered  the  Doctor  ;  "  but  I  can 
do  no  less  than  inform  Mr.  Guy  of  his  daughter's  pres 
ence  in  my  house.  Beyond  that,  the  responsibility  is 
with  him." 


CHAPTER  XXX. 


ID  Mrs.  Guy  repent  as  the  night  came 
down  ?  Did  soft  pity  steal  into  her 
heart  —  pity  for  the  unhappy  child 
whom  she  had  thrust  so  cruelly  from 
her  father's  door  ?  Were  there  no 
misgivings,  nor  relentings?  Nothing 
of  the  kind.  She  had  hardened  her 
heart  against  Lydia  long  and  long  ago, 
and  now  only  accepted  the  opportunity 
for  pushing  her  aside  with  a  resolute  hand. 

"  That  girl  had  the  assurance  to  come  here  !  "  she  said 
to  Mr.  Guy,  in  a  tone  which  betrayed  more  than  usual 
feeling.     The  children  had  retired  and  they  were  alone. 
"•  What  girl  ?  *'   Mr.  Guy  started,  and  turned,  in  a 
disturbed  way,  toward  his  wife. 
"  Why,  Lydia." 

"  Lydia  !  "  The  blood  came  darkly  into  his  face. 
"  Is  she  in  town  ?  " 

"  She  was  here  to-day." 
"  What  did  she  want  ?  " 

"  To  make  it  all  up,  I  presume.  To  open  the  way 
for  getting  back  here,  with  her  beggar  of  a  husband." 

"  By  heavens,  no  !  "  exclaimed  Mr.  Guy.  "  No  ! 
No !  No !  Not  while  I  have  breath.  What  did  you 
say  to  her  ?  " 


NOTHING    BUT    MONEY.  269 

"  I  had  nothing  to  say,  beyond   letting  her  under 
stand  that  she  had  no  longer  any  rights  in  this  house." 
"  Did  she  ask  for  me  ?  " 
"Yes." 

"  What  was  your  answer  ?  " 
"  That  you  would  be  home  in  the  evening." 
"  Has  she  called  again  ?  " 
"  I   believe  not."     The  woman  lied    outright.     She 

O 

knew  that  Lydia  had  been  there  a  second  time. 

"  Tell  the  servants  not  to  admit  her.  Let  her  go  to 
her  husband.  He  owns  her  now.  She  is  nothing  to 

O 

me,  now  !  "  The  father  spoke  vehemently,  being  over 
come  with  pnssion. 

Mrs.  Guy  had  already  given  that  direction  to  the 
servants  ;  but,  as  if  acting  under  her  husband's  will, 
she  left  the  room  in  pretence. 

"  It  is  done,"  she  remarked,  on  coming  back. 

Mr.  Guy  did  not  respond.  Fearful  that  he  might 
relent,  his  wife  said,  in  order  to  keep  the  balance  of 
anger  against  Lydia  — 

"  The  coolness  with  which  she  came  in  was  surpris 
ing;  as  if  she  had  the  same  rights  here  as  before." 

"  She  will  find  out  her  error,  I  think,"  growled  the 
father. 

"  So  I  imagine.  The  girl  who  does  so  wicked  a 
thing,  must  be  left  to  suffer  the  consequences." 

Mr.  Guy  said,  "  I  wish  her  no  harm,  but  she  must 
go  the  way  she  has  chosen.  I  cast  her  off,  utterly. 
I've  said  that  already,  and  what  I  say  I  mean." 

Satisfied  that  her  husband  was  on  the  right  side,  Mrs. 
Guy  did  not  press  the  subject  too  closely,  lest,  in  simple 


270  NOTHING    BUT    MONEY. 

opposition,  she  should  throw  in  a  word  in  favor  of  his 
child. 

Sleep  had  become,  of  late,  a  chary  attendant  on  the 
pillow  of  Adam  Guy.  If  from  any  cause,  he  did  not 
lose  himself  immediately  on  going  to  bed,  and  thought 
got  free  on  the  wings  of  truant  fancy,  he  would  lie  half 
the  night  tossing  about,  and  vainly  seeking  for  oblivion  ; 
or,  if,  after  getting  to  sleep,  anything  disturbed  him,  a 
like  result  followed.  The  morning  found  him  exhausted 
as  often  as  refreshed.  From  this  cause,  Mr.  Guy  was 
beginning  to  lose  ground,  as  well  physically  as  mentally. 
Neither  body  nor  brain  was  sufficiently  restored  by  the 
night's  mission  of  health.  The  force  of  habit,  in  this 
thing,  had  begun  to  act  with  other  causes,  so  that  a  ten 
dency  to  wakefulness  was  steadily  on  the  increase,  and 
beginning  to  assume  a  grave  aspect.  It  sometimes  hap 
pened,  that  the  whole  night  was  spent  in  vain  endeavors 
to  lose  himself,  unconsciousness  only  being  found  as 
darkness  gave  way  to  the  breaking  dawn.  Any  dis 
turbance  was  sure  to  be  followed  by  a  state  of  mental 
excitement  precluding  sleep. 

It  was  not  surprising,  therefore,  that,  after  retiring 
for  the  night,  Mr.  Guy  found  his  "  eyes  set  wide  open," 
as  he  often  expressed  it,  and  that,  instead  of  filling 
into  a  drowsy  state,  preluding  sleep,  his  mind,  in  full 
activity,  dwelt  on  the  act  and  condition  of  his  daughter 
Lydia.  He  was  not  so  entirely  lost  to  human  feelingsv 
that  all  touches  of  nature  were  dead.  He  could  not 
wholly  cast  aside  the  memories  of  Lydia's  s\vee£*child- 
hood;  and  now,  it  seemed,  as  if  a  hand  were  turning 
leaf  after  leaf,  in  the  book  of  his  life,  and  showing  him 


NOTHING    BUT    MONEY.  271 

records  that  stirred  his  heart  with  mingled  pleasure  and 
pain.  As  before  intimated,  there  was  a  tender  side  for 
Lydia  in  the  heart  of  Mr.  Guy,  indurated  as  that  heart 
had  become  ;  and,  therefore,  something  more  than  anger 
afflicted  him  —  and  something  more  than  the  turbulence 
of  bad  passions  drove  sleep  from  his  pillow  on  this  night 
following  her  expulsion  from  his  door. 

Two  or  three  times  did  Mr.  Guy  lose  himself  for  just 
a  moment  —  lose  himself  only  to  start  up,  wide  awake, 
from  some  frightful  dream,  the  action  of  which  seemed 
extended  over  weeks.  Then  guided  by  reason,  fancy 
would  lead  his  thoughts  to  probable  consequences  that 
might  have  followed  the  turning  off  of  Lydia.  Where 
had  she  gone  ?  Should  harm  befall  her,  would  not  the 
sin  lie  at  her  father's  door  ?  So  strongly  was  this 
thought  forced  upon  him,  that  he  said  aloud,  defending 
himself  from  the  assaults  of  accusing  spirits, 

"  I  did  not  do  it !  " 

"  Do  what,  Mr.  Guy  ?  "  His  wife,  from  whose  pil 
low  busy  thought  had  also  banished  sleep,  startled  by 
the  words,  arose,  leaning  on  her  arm,  and  bent  over 
her  husband. 

"Turn  Lydia  from  the  house,"  answered  the  unhap 
py  man,  in  a  voice  that  made  his  wife's  heart  beat 
quicker  and  stronger,  for  it  had  a  tone  of  pity  and  re 
gret. 

"  Who  did  turn  her  from  the  house  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  You,"  was  replied,  in  emphatic  utterance. 

"  NqJ;  in  obedience  to  my  own  will,"  said  Mrs.  Guy, 
in  her  usual  cold  and  distinct  utterance.  "  I  acted  only 
in  your  stead  —  did,  just  what  I  knew  you  expected 


272  NOTHING    BUT    MONEY. 

me  to  do  under  the  circumstances.  Had  I  consulted 
my  own  feelings,  there  would  have  been  a  difference. 
So,  don't,  I  pray  you,  laj  any  blame  at  my  door." 

Guy  only  responded  to  this  by  a  groan,  as  he  turned 
himself  away,  and  shrinking  down  in  bed,  with  his  face 
buried  in  a  pillow,  tried  to  shut  out  thoughts  that  were 
troubling  him  beyond  measure.  The  effort,  however, 
was  fruitless.  His  excited  brain  kept  on  with  its  mor 
bid  action,  and  gave  new  aspects  to  the  relation  in  which 
he  stood,  not  only  to  Lydia,  but  to  his  other  children, 
and  also  to  life  separate  from  family  interests.  A  cloud 
seemed  to  rest  over  everything  —  a  blight  seemed  to 
have  touched  everything.  Fear  crept  into  his  heart  — 
fear  of  some  impending  calamity  ;  the  nature  of  \vhich 
was  undefined,  —  but,  loss  of  money  was  involved,  for 
riches  in  his  estimation  made  the  highest  good. 

So  the  night  wore  on,  all  the  hour-strokes  ringing  on 
ears  alert.  Morning  found  Mr.  Guy  more  than  usually 
unrefreshed.  Exhaustion  had  naturally  succeeded. 
He  was  so  nervous  at  breakfast  time,  that  his  hand 
shook  as  he  raised  his  cup  to  his  lips.  Food,  beyond  a 
little  coffee,  he  did  not  take  ;  indeed,  he  was  rarely  able 
to  eat  anything  in  the  morning. 

Mrs.  Guy  watched  her  husband,  half  covertly,  but 
with  eyes  that  read  every  aspect  presented.  Two  or 
three  times  she  sought,  by  warily  put  questions,  to 
lead  him  out,  but  was  unable  to  get  down  to  the  cur 
rent  of  his  thoughts.  While  still  at  the  table,  a  servant 
brought  to  Mr.  Guy  a  letter,  which  had  just  been  left 
at  the  door.  He  opened  it  in  a  hurried,  rather  disturbed 
way.  Motionless  and  intent,  his  wife  looked  at  him 


NOTHING    BUT   MONEY.  273 

across  the  table.  She  saw  a  wave  of  feeling  sweep  over 
his  face  in  a  sudden  impulse,  as  he  glanced  down  at  the 
signature  before  readino-  the  letter. 

o  o 

"  Who  is  it  from,"  she  asked. 

But  Mr.  Guy  did  not  answer.  Partly  averting  his 
face,  he  read  the  communication. 

"  It  is  from  Doctor  Hofland,"  said  Mr.  Guy,  rising, 
as  he  commenced  refolding  the  letter.  He  spoke  with 
an  affected  unconcern,  that  did  not  deceive  his  wife. 

"  What  does  he  want  ?  "  she  inquired,  also  affecting 
indifference. 

It  did  not  suit  Mr.  Guy  to  answer  his  wife,  and  so 
her  question  fell  idly  on  the  air.  A.  moment,  and  the 
door  shut  behind  him.  If  Mrs.  Guy  had  obeved  the 
impulse  that  was  on  her,  she  would  have  followed  her 
husband  immediately  from  the  room.  But  that  would 
have  been  impolitic ;  showing  too  eager  an  interest  in 
his  state  of  mind  as  affecting  Lydia.  A  brief  delay, 
just  for  appearance  sake,  was  only  an  act  of  prudence 
—  brief  as  she  made  it,  however,  it  proved  too  long,  for 
in  the  interval  her  husband  left  the  house. 

On  reaching  his  place  of  business,  and  retiring  to  his 
private  counting-room,  Mr.  Guy  re-opened  and  again 
read  the  letter  of  Doctor  Hofland.  It  was  as  follows  :  — 

"  DEAR  SIR  —  At  a  late  hour  last  evening,  I  found 
your  daughter  Lydia  in  the  street.  She  said  that  her 
stepmother  had  turned  her  from  your  door,  and  that 
she  had  been  wandering,  over  the  city,  without  food, 
for  several  hours.  She  was  in  a  distressed  and  bewil 
dered  state.  Two  ruffians  were  in  pursuit  of  her,  at 
12* 


274  NOTHING    BUT    MONEY. 

the  time,  and  she  was  fleeing  from  them  with  cries  of 
terror.  I  took  her  home,  and  she  is  now  at  my  house, 
and  I  am  sorry  to  say  quite  ill. 

"  Yours  &c.,  EDWARD  HOFLAND." 

For  over  five  minutes,  Mr.  Guy  sat,  pondering  the 
answer  he  should  make  to  this  communication.  Then 
taking  up  a  pen,  he  wrote  — 

DOCTOR  E.  HOFLAND  :  —  DEAR  SIR,  —  For  your 
kindness  in  protecting  my  disobedient  daughter,  I  can 
do  no  less  than  give  you  my  thanks.  As  she  is  at  your 
house,  pray  render  her  all  needed  service.  When  she 
is  well  enough  to  leave  the  city,  let  her  go  to  her  hus 
band.  Send  your  bill  of  expenses  to  me,  and  it  will  be 
promptly  settled.  As  for  the  girl,  she  must  make  her 
bed  with  the  friends  she  lias  chosen.  Her  fault  is  one 
that  will  never  be  forgiven. 

"  Yours,  ADAM  GUY." 

Twice  this  was  read  over,  and  then  torn  up  It  was 
not  in  agreement  with  some  interposing  state  of  mind  — 
whether  of  weakness  towards  his  child,  or  regard  for 
public  opinion,  cannot  be  said.  After  another  period 
of  reflection,  he  wrote  again. 

"  DOCTOR  HOFLAND  :  —  DEAR  SIR, —  Your  commu 
nication  is  just  at  hand.  It  has  caused  me  acute  pain. 
Do  for  my  unhappy  child  whatever  she  needs,  in  com 
mon  humanity,  and  hand  me  the  charge.  When  well 
enough  to  be  moved,  send  her  back  to  her  husband. 


NOTHING    BUT    MONEY.  275 

Let  her  understand  that  all  attempts  to  return  home 
will  be  fruitless.  She  will  not  be  received.  Even  if  I 
consented,  all  the  rest  would  repel  her.  The  disgrace 
she  has  brought  upon  the  family  is  most  keenly  and  in 
dignantly  felt. 

•/ 

"  Yours,  &c.  ADAM  GUY." 

This  letter  shared  the  same  fate.  Another  was  then 
written. 

"  DOCTOR  HOFLAND  :  —  DEAR  SIR, —  Your  letter  has 
pained  me  exceedingly.  I  was  not  at  home  when  Ly- 
dia  called ;  but,  even  if  I  had  been,  I  should  have  de 
clined  seeing  her.  Of  course,  no  one  imagined  that  she 
was  in  the  city  alone,  or  without  a  lodging  place. 
Where  is  her  husband  ?  Ler  her  go  to  him  as  soon  as 
she  is  well  enough  to  leave  your  house.  Please  impress 
it  on  her  mind,  that  all  hope  of  a  reconciliation  with 
her  family  must  be  abandoned.  Her  fault  is  one  that 
can  neither  be  forgotten  nor  forgiven.  From  henceforth, 
she  will  be  held  as  a  stranger. 

"  Yours,  &c.,         ADAM  GUY." 

This  letter,  no  more  satisfactory  to  the  writer  than 
had  been  the  others,  was  sent  to  Doctor  Hofland ;  but, 
in  sending  it,  the  thought  of  his  child  was  not  cast  out 
from  the  father's  mind.  He  might  turn  away  from 
her  —  might  shut  his  door  against  her  — -  but,  for  all 
that,  her  image  would  creep  in  and  haunt  him  with  its 
perpetual  presence. 

Notwithstanding  his  letter  to  Doctor  Hofland  was  so 
worded  as  to  close  the  door  against  all  attempts  at  effect- 


276  NOTHING    BUT    MONEY. 

ing  a  reconciliation,  Mr.  Guy,  in  his  secret  thoughts, 
held  to  the  belief  that  the  Doctor  would  not  let  the 
matter  die.  A  hundred  times  during  the  day  did  his 
eyes  glance  towards  the  counting-room  door,  as  he  heard 
feet  approaching,  or  the  sound  of  a  hand  on  the  knob, 
certainly  expecting  to  see  the  form  of  Doctor  Hofland, 
or  to  receive  a  letter  from  him  by  the  hand  of  a  mes 
senger.  A  higher  respect  for  the  Doctor,  all  at  once 
took  possession  of  his  mind.  For  years  he  had  held 
him  in  indifferent  estimation,  because  he  thought  him 
poor  and  thriftless  ;  and  though  he  was  now  ranking 
high  in  his  profession,  and  honorably  spoken  of  by  all, 
he  lacked,  still,  in  the  eyes  of  the  rich  merchant,  the 
money-sign  of  worth.  But  the  fact  that  his  daughter 
had  found  a  refuge  with  the  Doctor,  and  that  the  Doc 
tor  had  addressed  him  a  cold,  formal  note  on  the  sub 
ject,  in  replying  to  which  he  had  found  it  difficult  to 
express  himself  satisfactorily,  now  conspired  to  work  a 
change  in  his  mind.  He  did  not  stand  so  far  above  the 
Doctor,  nor  hold  him  in  such  poor  regard  as  before. 

All  day  long,  Mr.  Guy  looked  for  some  response  to 
his  note,  but  none  came.  Night  found  him,  with  an 
unusual  weight  upon  his  feelings  ;  and  when  he  retired, 
it  was  to  be  haunted  all  through  the  weary  hours  by 
waking  dreams,  that  found  no  pleasant  changes.  Not 
alone  upon  Lydia  did  his  thoughts  dwell.  They  went 
out  upon  the  wide  reaching  sea,  following  after  the  boy 
whom  he  had  committed  to  the  waves.  How  would  he 
be  returned,  if  lie  came  back  at  all  ?  Better  or  worse? 
Alas  !  prophecy  in  the  father's  mind  was  dark,  dark. 
In  regarcl  to  Edwin,  a  warning  word  had  already  been 


NOTHING    BUT   MONEY.  277 

received  from  the  Principal  of  the  school  to  which  he 
had  been  sent.  The  boy's  deportment  was  not  good  ; 
and  there  was  a  hint  indicative  of  something  more  seri 
ous.  A  proposition  to  bring  him  home  had  been  met 
by  a  resolute  objection  on  the  part  of  his  wife.  Edwin 
was  out  of  her  way,  and  she  did  not  mean  to  have  him 
in  it  again  —  at  least,  not  without  a  strong  opposing 
effort.  Then,  recent  losses  in  trade,  and  some  large, 
current  operations  that  began  to  look  anything  but  prom 
ising,  added  to  these  causes  of  mental  disturbance,  and 
completely  barred  out  the  saving  influences  of  sleep. 

At  midnight  Mr.  Guy  was  walking  the  floor  of  his 
chamber,  unable,  any  longer,  to  lie  in  bed.  For  nearly 
an  hour,  he  moved  about,  silent-footed,  so  that  his  wife 
might  not  awake,  and  then  tried  his  pillow  again.  But, 
the  brain  was  active  as  before,  and  went  on  creating, 
reviewing,  and  prophesying  evil,  with  unabating  fertility. 

As  day  began  to  dawn,  Mr.  Guy,  remembering  that 
sleep  had  often  come  at  this  hour,  resigned  himself,  in 
forced  expectation  of  its  stealthy  approaches  ;  but,  the 
very  state  of  mind  thus  induced,  kept  off  the  slumber 
ous  charms,  and  drove  him  from  his  bed  an  hour  before 
the  usual  time  of  rising. 

"  You  don't  look  well  this  morning,"  said  his  wife, 
regarding  him  with  real  concern.  They  were  at  the 
breakfast  table. 

Mr,  Guy  did  not  answer,  though  the  remark  produced 
a  change  in  the  expression  of  his  face. 

"  Does  your  head  ache  ?  "  Mr.  Guy  had  reached  up 
his  hands,  suddenly,  and  pressed  them  against  his  temples. 

"  No,"  —  he  answered,  with  an  evasion  of  tone,  as  if 


278  NOTHING    BUT   MONEY. 

he  did  not  care  to  be  observed  or  questioned.  "  My 
head  doesn't  ache,"  and  he  withdrew  his  hands. 

Mrs.  Guy  looked  still  more  concerned,  and,  also,  a 
little  puzzled. 

"  Are  you  going  to  eat  anything  ?  ''  she  asked,  a  little 
while  afterwards. 

"  I've  no  appetite  in  the  morning,"  he  replied,  push 
ing  back  his  chair,  and  leaving  the  table,  with  his  single 
cup  of  coffee  not  half  emptied.  His  wife  called  after 
him,  but  he  paid  no  heed  to  her  remonstrance.  Taking 
his  hat  from  the  stand  in  the  hall,  he  went  out. 

Mr.  Guy  did  not  doubt  but  that  he  should  find,  among 
the  morning's  letters,  one  from  Doctor  Hofland.  But, 
in  this,  he  wras  mistaken  —  disappointed  we  might  in 
truth  say.  The  fact  is,  outspoken  as  had  been  his  com 
munication  in  regard  to  Lydia,  a  secret  desire  for  me 
diation  on  the  part  of  Doctor  Hofland  was  felt.  Not 
that  he  wished  for  a  reconciliation  with  Lydia,  or  meant 
to  let  her  consider  him  as  other  than  a  stranger  —  but 
his  interest  in  his  child  was  not  dead  ;  old,  old  chords  of 
affection,  twined  in  her  earlier  years,  were  pulling  at  his 
heart,  and,  while  angry,  he  still  desired  to  know  how  it 
was  with  her  in  the  present,  and  how  it  would  be  in  the 
future. 

But,  the  day  passed,  and  the  curtain  which  his  own 
hand  had  let  fall  between  him  and  his  daughter,  was 
not  lifted.  Doctor  Hofland  had  accepted  his  decision  as 
final. 


\ 


CHAPTER  XXXI. 

IS  anticipated  by  Dr.  Hofland,  the  ill 
ness  of  Lydia  was  temporary  ;  the  result 
of  over  excitement  and  fatigue.  On 
the  second  day  she  was  entirely  free 
from  fever,  and  able  to  sit  up,  though 
exhibiting  signs  of  weakness.  On  the 
third  day,  she  was  strong  enough  to  go 
out,  when  she  made  another  effort  to 
see  her  father  ;  this  time  going  to  his 
store.  There  she  learned  that  he  was  confined  at 
home  by  a  slight  indisposition.  Still  fixed  in  her  purpose 
to  see  him,  she  went  to  the  house,  and,  as  the  door  was 
opened,  glided  past  the  servant,  so  as  lo  prevent  its  being 
shut  in  her  face,  as  on  a  former  occasion. 

"  Can  I  see  Mr.  Guy  ?  "  she  asked,  as  she  retired 
along  the  hall  towards  the  entrance  of  one  of  the  par 
lors. 

"  He  is  sick,"  replied  the  servant,  "  and  cannot  be 
seen." 

"  But,  I  must  see  him.''  Lydia's  repressed  excitement 
now  manifested  itself,  and  turning  she  ran  up  stairs,  the 
girl  who  had  opened  the  door  following  quickly,  and 
calling  out,  "  Mrs.  Guy  !  Mrs.  Guy  !  "  in  a  half  sup 
pressed,  warning  voice. 


280  NOTHING   BUT    MONEY. 

At  the  head  of  the  stairway,  Lydia  met  her  stepmoth 
er,  who  at  once  disputed  her  farther  progress. 

"  I  must  see  father !  "  exclaimed  Lydia,  attempting 
to  pass ;  but  a  strong  hand  was  laid  on  her  shoulder. 

41  Didn't  I  say  that  she  was  not  to  come  in  !  "  demand 
ed  Mrs.  Guy,  in  a  low,  fierce  tone,  addressing  the 
servant,  at  the  same  time  that  she  pushed  Lydia  back 
with  a  strength  that  the  poor  girl  could  not  resist. 

"  Indeed,  ma'am,  and  she  slipped  past  me  before  I 
knew  it  was  her,"  answered  the  servant. 

"  If  you  come  here  again,  I'll  send  for  a  policeman," 
said  Mrs.  Guy,  close  to  the  ear  of  Lydia,  and  in  a  voice 
that  chilled  her  like  a  sudden  icy  wind  !  "  You  don't 
belong  to  this  house  ;  so  keep  away;'  if  you  want  to  keep 
out  of  trouble." 

And  pressing  steadily  on  to  Lydia,  she  forced  her  down 
stairs  and  out  into  the  street.  Before  the  bewildered 
girl  could  recover  herself  from  the  sudden  onset,  the 
door  shut  heavily  behind  her.  All  this  passed  so  rapidly, 
that  Lydia  scarcely  realized  the  fact  of  a  forcible  expul 
sion  from  her  father's  house.  But  soon,  an  outflashing 
indignation  fired  her  whole  being,  as  her  mind  came  up 
to  a  full  comprehension  of  the  outrage  ;  and  a  wild 
spirit  of  revenge  took  possession  of  her  soul.  Her  pale, 
stern  face,  startled  Mrs.  Hofland  a  little  while  afterwards, 
us  she  came  into  her  presence  hastily. 

"  Why,  Lydia,  child  !  Are  you  sick  again  ?  What 
has  happened  ?  "  she  asked,  with  much  apparent  con 
cern. 

"  Not  sick,  ma'am,  but  outraged  beyond  all  forgive 
ness  !  "  Mrs.  Hofland  saw  a  gleam  of  fierce  anger  burn 
up  in  her  eyes. 


NOTHING    BUT   MONEY.  281 

"  How,  child  ?     How  ?     Did  you  see  your  father  ?  " 

"No." 

"  Why  not  ?  " 

"  He  was  sick  at  home." 

"Sick?" 

"  Yes  :  and  instead  of  permitting  me  to  see  him,  I  was 
pushed  down  stairs  and  out  of  the  house,  as  if  I  had  been 
a  thief!" 

"  By  whom  ?  "  asked  Mrs.  Hofland. 

"  By  a  woman  whom  he  calls  wife  !  She  put  her 
hands  upon  me  violently.  I  looked  into  her  face  and 
saw  the  tiger  there  —  fierce  and  cruel.  I  know  her 
now  ;  and  by  all  that  I  hold  sacred  in  life}  I  will  neither 
forget  nor  forgive  her  act  to-day  !  From  this  hour,  I 
am  her  implacable  enemy."  Her  face,  pale  a  little  while 
before,  grew  dark  with  passion. 

"  Lydia  !  Lydia  !  "  interposed  Mrs.  Hofland,  almost 
frightened  at  the  transformation  which  took  place  so  sud 
denly.  "  Don't  speak  so." 

"  I'm  in  earnest,  Mrs.  Hofland,"  was  answered, 
"  madly  in  earnest !  She  has  fully  unveiled  herself,  and 
I  know  just  what  she  is,  and  just  what  she  means.  I 
never  liked  her  — never  thought  her  my  friend  !  —  but 
the  mask  I  so  often  tried  to  penetrate,  has  dropped  from 
before  her  face,  and  I  see  her  as  she  is.  She  never  tried 
to  win  my  love ;  and  now  I  give  her  my  undying 
hate  !  " 

"  Oh,  Lydia !  my  dear  young  friend,  hold  back  such 
thoughts.  We  must  not  speak  of  revenge^  but  for 
giveness,"  said  Mrs.  Hofland,  trying  to  calm  the  excited 
girl. 


282  NOTHING  BUT  MONEY. 

"  It  is  too  late,  madam,"  answered  Lydia,  "I  am  only 
human.  There  are  some  things  which  cannot  be  for 
given,  and  this  is  one  of  them.  As  sure  as  I  live,  that 
woman  shall  see  the  day  when  suffering  will  come  of 
this  ;  suffering,  if  not  repentance." 

When  Lydia  went  out  on  that  morning,  she  was  sub 
dued  in  spirit ;  but  now  exhibited  a  fierceness  that  almost 
appalled  Mrs.  Hofland.  She  did  not  seem  like  the  same 
individual.  It  was  of  no  avail  that  she  tried  to  soothe 
her  feelings.  The  fire  of  passions  burned  on. 

In  the  afternoon  of  that  day,  she  announced  her 
intention  to  retui'n  to  her  husband  in  the  morning,  ask 
ing  for  a  sum  of  money  sufficient  to  defray  the  expense, 
which  would  be  refunded  on  her  arrival  at  home.  No 
opposition  to  this  was  made  at  the  time  ;  but,  on  the 
next  morning,  as  she  came  down  stairs,  Mrs.  Hofland 
met  her  wi  th  a  sober  face,  and  said, 

"  The  Doctor  thinks  you  had  better  remain  a  day 
longer." 

"  Why  ?  "  was  the  natural  inquiry. 

"  You  know  that  your  father  is  sick." 

"  What  of  him  ?  "  A  slight  shade  of  alarm  went  over 
the  face  of  Lydia. 

"  The  Doctor  was  called  in  last  night." 

"To  see  father?" 

"  Yes." 

"  Is  he  so  very  ill  ?  "  Lydia's  alarm  increased. 

"  The  Doctor  has  not  said  much  in  regard  to  your 
father ;  only  he  thinks  you  should  not  leave  to-day." 

Lydia  sunk  down  upon  the  stairs,  and  became  quite 
pale. 


NOTHING  BUT  MONEY.  283 

*'  Don't  be  frightened,  my  dear,"  said  Mrs.  Hofland, 
"  there  is  nothing  serious,  I  presume." 

"  But  there  must  be,  or  else  the  Doctor  wouldn't  say 
anything  about  my  remaining.  And  then,  isn't  it 
strange  that  he  should  be  sent  for  ?  He's  never  attend 
ed  in  our  family.  Where  is  the  doctor?  "  And  Lydia 
arose  quickly.  "  I  must  see  him." 

"  He  went  out  half  an  hour  ago,"  replied  Mrs. 
Hofland. 

"  To  see  father  ?  " 

Mrs.    Hofland  hesitated  a  little  before  answering  this 

O 

question,  and  then  said  — 

"Yes,  I  think  so." 

"  Was  he  sent  for  again  ?  " 

"  No  ;  but  the  Doctor  said  he  would  step  around  and 
see  how  he  had  passed  the  night." 

"  He  must  be  very  sick."  And  Lydia  sat  down  again 
on  the  stairs,  like  one  from  whose  limbs  strength  had 
departed. 

"  I  did  not  infer  from  the  Doctor's  manner  that  your 
father  was  dangerously  ill,"  replied  Mrs.  Hofland. 
"  But,  here  he  comes  now." 

The  street  door  opened,  and  Doctor  Hofland  came 
in. 

"  Oh,  Doctor ! — how  is  father  ?  "  eagerly  asked  Lydia, 
starting  to  her  feet,  and  leaning  for  support  on  the  balus 
ter. 

The  Doctor  tried  to  speak  and  look  cheerful,  as  he 
answered  — 

"  He  has  not  passed  a  very  good  night ;  though  I 
found  him  quiet  and  easy."  This  increased  rather  than 
diminished  the  alarm  of  Lydia. 


284  NOTHING    BUT   MONEY. 

"  What  is  the  matter  with  him?  "  she  asked,  evincino1 

*  o 

the  greatest  anxiety. 

"  It  is  difficult  to  meet  that  question,"  replied  Doc 
tor  Hofland.  "  The  worst  symptom  is  sleeplessness." 

"  Then,  he  has  no  bad  sickness  —  nothing  danger 
ous  ?  "  said  Lydia,  in  a  tone  of  relief. 

"  No,  nothing  that  you  would  call  dangerous."  But 
there  was  something  in  the  Doctor's  manner  that  quick 
ened  anew  Lydia's  fears. 

"  Tell  me  what  it  is,  Doctor.  I  ought  to  know." 
Lydia's  voice  was  calmer  and  firmer.  "  You  think  I 
should  not  leave  for  home  to-day.  That,  as  I  under 
stand  it,  means  something  serious." 

She  fixed  her  gaze,  searchingly,  on  Doctor  Hofland, 
and  waited  for  reply. 

"  Not  necessarily  very  serious."  The  Doctor  smiled 
in  an  assuring  way.  "  As  I  said,  the  worst  symptom  is 
sleeplessness.  Your  father  cannot  sleep  at  night,  and  in 
consequence,  his  nervous  system  has  become  much  ex 
hausted." 

"  Isn't  that  strange  ?  "  asked  Lydia,  in  a  doubting, 
perplexed  way. 

"  The  condition  is  unusual,"  remarked  the  doctor. 

"  What  is  the  cause?  " 

"I  am  unable  to  answer.     The  mind,  I  apprehend/ 
however,  has  most  to  do  with  it.     Your  father  has,  all 
his  life,  permitted  his  thoughts  to  run  too  exclusively.^!!* 
a  single  direction.     Some  obstruction  in  the  swift  current 
has  disturbed  him." 

Lydia  dropped  her  e'yes  to  the  floor.  She  was  not 
satisfied. 


NOTHING    BUT    MONEY.  285 

"  I  think  we  shall  have  a  favorable  change  by  to 
morrow,"  said  the  Doctor.  "  But,  you  must  not  think 
of  going  home  to-day." 

"  Do  you  regard  the  case  as  very  serious  ?  "  asked 
Mrs.  Hofland,  when  alone  with  her  husband. 

"  I  do,"  replied  the  Doctor.  "  Mr.  Guy  has  not  been 
able  to  sleep  for  or  four  five  days,  and  that  is  bad  — 
very  bad." 

"  What  is  the  cause  ?  " 

The  Doctor  shook  his  head. 

"  This  trouble  with  Lydia  has,  no  doubt,  greatly  dis 
turbed  him,"  said  Mrs.  Hofland. 

"I  think  so." 

"  Has  he  mentioned  her  name  ?  " 

"  No  ;  but  I  can  see  that  there  is  something  on  his 
mind  about  which  he  would  like  to  speak  with  me." 

"  Didn't  you  try  to  lead  him  out?  " 

"  Yes ;  but  we  were  never  alone.  His  wife  hovers 
about  him  like  a  shadow.  A  number  of  times  he  sought 
to  get  her  out  of  the  room  by  asking  for  something,  but 
she  either  rung  the  bell  for  a  servant  or  supplied  the 
want  from  resources  at  hand.  I  could  see,  plainly 
enough,  that  we  were  not  to  be  left  alone  for  a  mo 
ment." 

"  She's  an  evil-minded  woman,  I'm  afraid,"  said  Mrs. 
Hofland. 

"  Cold-hearted,  selfish,  and  designing.  So  she  im 
presses  me,"  replied  the  Doctor.  "  And  it  is  clearly 
evident  that  Mr.  Guy  stands  in  fear  of  her." 

"  In  fear  !  " 

"  Yes,  fear  is  the  word." 


286  NOTHING    BUT    MONEY. 

"  I'm  surprised  at  that.  He  never  impressed  me  as 
a  man  over  whom  a  woman  could  gain  power,"  said 
Mrs.  Hofland. 

"  That  woman  has  power  over  him.  Nothing  is 
clearer.  She  moves  about  silently,  almost  stealthily  ; 
and  has  a  low,  smooth  voice,  over  the  modulations  of 
which  she  holds  perfect  control.  But,  any  one  read  be 
yond  the  first  leaf  in  human  nature,  can  see  that  she  is 
deep  and  designing.  Yesterday  afternoon,  on  going 
with  Doctor  L to  visit  Mr.  Guy,  I  noticed  a  gentle 
man  leaving  the  house  as  we  approached.  Mrs.  Guy 
came  to  the  door  with  him ;  I  observed  that.  On  a 
nearer  view  I  saw  that  it  was  Justin  Larobe." 

"The  lawyer?" 

"  Yes.  He  was  a  student  in  Mrs.  Guy's  first  hus 
band's  law  office,  and  now,  has  a  good  practice  at  our 
bar.  But,  the  man's  reputation  is  bad.  Cunning,  spe 
cious,  shrewd,  and  with  fair  talents,  he  has  made  head 
way  in  his  profession  ;  but  I  think  him  utterly  void  of 
honest  principle.  Why  was  he  there  ?  The  question 
has  come  up  a  dozen  times  since  I  saw  him  leave  the 
house.  The  answer  that  he  had  law  business  with  Mr. 
Guy,  and  was  there  to  consult  him,  does  not  satisfy  me." 

"  What  do  you  suspect  ?  " 

"  I  can't.say  that  any  definite  suspicion  has  assumed 
shape  in  my  mind ;  but  I  feel  the  shadow  of  something 
wrong." 

After  breakfast,  and  just  as  Doctor  Hofland  was  pre 
paring  to  go  out,,  a  messenger  came  from  Mrs.  Guy, 
saying  that  her  husband  wished  to  see  him  immediately. 
The  Doctor  stepped  into  his  carriage  and  drove  to  the 


NOTHING    BUT    MONEY.  287 

residence  of  Mr.  Guy.     In  the  hall,  on  his  entrance,  he 
met  Mrs.  Guy. 

"  Has  there  been  a  change  for  the  worse  ?  "  he  asked,  \ 
seeing  more  trouble  on  the  face  of  Mrs.  Guy  than  he 
had  yet  observed  there. 

"  He's  acting  very  strangely,  Doctor,"  she  returned  ; 
"  and  insists  on  seeing  you  again  this  morning." 

"  How,  strangely  ?  "  said  the  Doctor. 

"  Wildly,  as  if  he  were  losing  his  mind.  He  fright 
ened  me  dreadfully  a  little  while  ago." 

The  Doctor  passed  up  stairs,  hurriedly.  He  had 
been  fearing  decided  symptoms  of  mental  aberration. 
On  reaching  the  door  of  Mr.  Guy's  chamber,  he  found 
it  locked. 

"  Who's  there  ?  "  called  a  voice  from  within. 

"  Dr.  Hofland,"  he  replied. 

The  key  was  turned,  and  the  door  opened  just  a  little 
way. 

"  Come  in,  Doctor,"  said  Mr.  Guy,  holding  the  door 
just  far  enough  open  for  one  person  to  crowd  through. 
Tlie  instant  Doctor  Hofland  was  inside,  the  door  was 
shut  with  a  sudden  movement,  and  the  key  turned. 

Mrs.  Guy  knocked  loudly  for  admittance,  but  her 
husband  had  withdrawn  the  key,  and  now  held  it  tight 
ly  clutched  in  his  hand. 

"  You  can  stay  where  you  are,  madam,"  he  said,  in 
a  chuckling  tone,  and  with  a  gleam  of  triumph  on  his 
face,  that  chilled  the  heart  of  Doctor  Hofland,  for  both 
too  clearly  gave  evidence  of  approaching  insanity. 

"  I  wanted  to  see  you  alone,'  Doctor,"  he  remarked, 
a  moment  afterwards,  the  flash  of  light  going  out  of  his 


288  NOTHING    BUT    MONEY. 

face,  and  his  tone  falling  to  one  of  grave  earnest.  "  Sit 
down  by  the  bed.  I  must  lie  down  again.  Isn't  it 
strange  that  I  get  so  weak,  and  nothing  the  matter  with 
me  —  only  just  wakefulness  ?  " 

He^  threw  himself  on  the  bed  from  which  he  had 
arisen,  and  looked  very  earnestly  at  Doctor  Hofland. 
He  was  about  speaking,  when  some  one  rattled  loudly 
at  the  door. 

"  Who's  there  ?  "   he  called,  rising  in  bed. 

"  Me,"  answered  a  voice  that  was  recognized  as  that 
of  Mrs.  Guy. 

"  Well,  me  can't  come  in  !  "  he  shouted,  with  angry 
vehemence."  So  just  go  oft'!  I'm  consulting  the  Doc 
tor,  and  wont  be  disturbed."  Then  looking  at  Doctor 
Hofland,  and  lowering  his  voice,  he  said  — 

"  I  can't  talk  before  her.  She  watches  all  my  words 
so.  You  don't  consider  me  very  ill,  Doctor,  do  you  ?  " 

"  No,  certainly  not,  Mr.  Guy.  This  inability  to 
sleep  is  unfortunate,  however,  and  we  must  overcome  it 
in  some  way." 

"  She  thinks  me  dangerous."  An  expression  of  pain 
ful  anxiety  came  into  his  face. 

"  Who  ?  "• 

"  Mrs.  Guy." 

"  She  has  not  said  so  to  me." 

"  I'll  tell  you  about  it,  Doctor."  And  the  invalid 
leaned  towards  Doctor  Hofland,  and  spoke  in  a  hushed, 
confidential  way.  "  She  thinks  I'm  going  to  die." 

"  You  imagine  that,"  returned  the  Doctor,  affecting 
a  lightness  of  tone. 

"  No,  sir  ;  there's  no  imagination  about  it !     It's  just 


NOTHING    BUT    MONEY.  289 

'as  I  say."  Guy's  manner  grew  excited.  But,  he  changed 
in  a  moment,  and  speaking  low  and  confidentially  again, 
said  — 

"  Doctor,  we  were  old  friends." 

"  Yes." 

"  Maybe  it  was  my  fault  that  we  haven't  always  been 
friends."  There  was  a  conscious  weakness  in  Guv's 
voice  that  touched  the  Doctor. 

"  We  have  not  been  enemies,  even  though  friendly 
intimacy  ceased,"  said  Doctor  Hofland,  with  kind  en 
couragement  in  his  tones.  "  And  now,  if  I  can  serve 
you  in  any  way,  consider  me  as  your  best  friend." 

"  Oh,  thank  you,  Doctor:  you're  very  kind."  He 
spoke  with  animation.  Then,  as  his  voice  fell  to  a  sad 
der  key,  he  continued.  "  She  thinks  I'm  going  to  die  ; 
and,  maybe  I  wrong  her,  but,  in  some  cases  you  know, 
the  wish  is  father  to  the  thought." 

A  shiver  ran  along  the  Doctor's  nerves. 

"  She's  a  deep  woman,"  resumed  Mr.  Guy,  seeing 
both  surprise  and  incredulity  in  the  Doctor's  *  face. 
"  You  don't  know  her  as  I  do.  She  only  married 
me  for  my  money.  That,  between  us,  Doctor.  Of 
course,  you'll  not  speak  of  it  to  any  one.^  But,  I  want 
you  to  know  it." 

Guy  sat  upright  in  bed,  and  seemed  debating  whether 
,  to  take  the  Doctor  still  farther  into  his  confidence  or  not. 

"I  can  trust  you  —  yes  —  you're  discreet;  and  be 
sides  you're  an  old  friend,"  he  went  on,  looking  at  the 
Doctor  with  a  strange  blending  of  weak  confidence  and 
solemnity.  "  She  had  a  lawyer  here  yesterday  !  " 

"  Indeed  !  "     The  Doctor  affected  surprise. 
12 


290  NOTHING    BUT    MONEY. 

"  Yes.  And  what  do  vou  suppose  she  wanted  me 
to  do  ?  " 

"  I'm  sure  I  cannot  tell." 

"  Make  a  will !  " 

"What?" 

"  Make  a  will !  " 

"  Oh,  that  has  been  attended  to  long  and  long  ago," 
said  the  Doctor,  smiling.  "  You  are  not  the  man  to 
neglect  so  important  a  thing." 

"  Of  course  I  am  not.  But,  don't  you  see  what's  in 
her  mind?  " 

The  Doctor  did  not  answer. 

"  She  wanted  a  will  to  suit  herself,  and  then  —  " 

A  look  of  fear,  almost  horror,  darkened  the  face  of 
Mr.  Guy. 

"  I'm  sure  you  wrong  her,"  said  Doctor  Hofland. 

"  I'm  sure  I  do  not.  She's  deep,  deep,  deep  as  the 
sea.  You  don't  know  her  as  I  do.  But,  you  don  t  think 
I'm  going  to  die,  Doctor  ?  " 

"  Assuredly  not." 

Guy's  face  brightened. 

"  I've  made  my  will,"  he  said,  leaning  towards  the 
Doctor,  and  Jaying  a  hand  on  his  arm.  "  But,  it  wont 
just  do.  I  must  have  a  new  will.  Suppose  I  write  one 
now.  You'll  be  witness." 

"  Two  witnesses  are  required,  I  believe,"  replied  the 
Doctor,  putting  him  off.  "  So  it  wouldn't  stand  if 
made.  If  you  have  a  fair  will,  let  it  remain  in  force  for 
the  present.  After  you  are  able  to  go  about  again, 
a  new  one  can  be  executed.  That  is  my  advice." 

This  seemed  to  pacify  him,  and  he  laid  himself  down 
in  bed,  breathing  forth,  as  he  did  so,  a  long  sigh. 


NOTHING   BUT    MONEY.  291 

"  Shall  I  let  your  wife  in  now  ?  "  asked  the  Doctor. 

"Oh,  no!  no!"  quickly  answered  the  sick  man, 
starting  up  in  bed  again,  and  exhibiting  a  great  deal  of 
excitement.  "I've  got  more  to  say ;  and  she  mustn't 
hear  a  word  of  it.  What  about  Lydia?"  This  ques 
tion  was  put  abruptly,  and  with  visible  signs  of  pain. 

"  She  is  still  at  my  house,"  replied  the  Doctor. 

"  Why  don't  she  go  to  her  precious  husband?  "  His 
voice  grew  suddenly  stern  and  angry. 

"  She  was  all  ready  to  leave  this  morning." 

"  Well,  whv  didn't  she  go  ?  " 

•• 

"  I  thought  it  best  for  her  to  remain  a  day  or  two 
longer." 

"  You  did  !       For  what  reason  ?  "       Guy  knit  his 
brows,  and  looked  suspiciously  at  the  Doctor. 

"  She's  been  sick,  and    has    not  regained    her  full 
strength." 

"  Was  that  your  only  reason  ?  "    The  eyes  of  the 
sick  man  still  looked  keenly  into  the  Doctor's  face. 

"  And  you  are  sick." 

"  Ha  !  I  thought  so  !  "  Guy  jerked  the  words  out 
sharply. 

"  Thought  what  ?  "  The  Doctor  spoke  very  calmly, 
yet  in  a  slight  tone  of  surprise,  not  letting  his  eyes  wa 
ver  a  moment  in  their  return  of  the  sick  man's  gaze. 

"  O,  nothing,"  said  Guy  —  "  Nothing.  It's  just  my 
foolishness."  And  he  turned  himself  away,  shrinking 
down  in  the  bed.  As  he  did  so,  the  Doctor  arose,  and 
was  crossing  the  room,  for  the  purpose  of  unfastening 
the  door,  when,  hearing  the  movement,  he  started  up 
and  called  out,  eagerly, 


292  NOTHING    BUT    MONEY. 

"  No,  no,  no  !  Don't  do  that !  Don't  let  her  in  ! 
Come  back  here.  I've  a  great  deal  more  to  say." 

The  Doctor  returned  to  his  patient. 

"  I  got  your  letter  about  Lydia,"  said  Guy,  assuming 
a  degree  of  calmness. 

"  And  I  received  your  answer." 

"  Well  ?  " 

"  I  did  not  think  it  the  right  answer,  Mr.  Guy.  She 
is  still  your  child  —  bone  of  your  bone,  and  flesh  of 
your  flesh  ;  and  wrong  doing  on  her  part  cannot  alter 
the  relation.-" 

"  The  wrong  is  too  great,  sir. —  The  sin  too  deep.  I 
have  cast  her  off!  "  Guy's  manner  was  stern. 

"  Not  greater  than  our  wrong  doing  and  sin  against 
God  ;  but  he  never  casts  us  off.  Suppose  He  were  as 
implacable  as  you  are  trying  to  be,  what  hope  should 
we  have  in  dying?  Alas,  death  would  then  be  full, 
indeed,  of  terrors !  We  might  well  tremble  as  it  ap 
proaches.  We  must  forgive,  if  we  would  be  forgiven. 
As  God's  children,  we  ask  mercy  ;  but  he  has  told  us, 
that,  in  the  measure  we  meet,  it  shall  be  measured  to  us 
again. —  That  if  we  do  not  forgive,  we  cannot  be  for 
given.  •  Think  of  this,  Mr.  Guy." 

He  did  think  of  it,  as  was  plain  from  the  fixed,  sol 
emn  aspect  of  countenance,  all  at  once  assumed. 

"  You  don't  believe  I  will  die?"  he  said,  speaking 
half  in  confidence,  half  in  fear  ;  remembering  the  Doc 
tor's  assurances  a  little  while  before. 

"  With  God  are  the  issues  of  life,"  answered  the 
Doctor.  "  We  are  in  His  hands,  and  He  calls  us  in 
His  own  good  time.  It  is  for  us  to  be  always  ready. 


NOTHING    BUT   MONEY.  293 

Some  fall,  suddenly,  as  vou  know,   without  warnino- ; 

*  *'  O    ' 

while  others  linger  in  wasting  sickness.  Of  the  day 
and  the  hour  of  his  departure  knows  no  man." 

Mr.  Guy's  countenance  became  even  more  troubled. 
His  eyes,  that  were  very  restless,  glancing  from  one  ob 
ject  to  another,  continually,  had  a  staring  look. 

"  Do  you  believe  in  a  hell,  Doctor  ?  "  he  said,  abrupt- 

iy- 

"  Yes,"  replied  the  Doctor. 

"  Well,  I  don't,  then  !  You  can't  frighten  me  with 
your  fire  and  brimstone."  He  grew  angry  and  excited. 
There  was  a  wild  play  of  all  the  facial  muscles ;  and  a 
fierce  gleaming  of  the  eyes.  "  So  don't  talk  to  me  about 
hell  and  damnation  !  All  stuff  and  nonsense  !  " 

A  hand  rattled  at  the  door.  "  Let  me  open  it,"  said 
the  Doctor.  "  It  is  your  wife." 

"  No  !  No  !  No  !  I  say  NO  !  "  Guy  shouted  the 
last  utterance  of  the  word  "  No,"  with  a  mad  vehe 
mence.  "  She  isn't  going  to  come  in  here,"  he  added, 
lowering  his  voice.  "  D'you  know,  Doctor,"  leaning 
closer  and  speaking  in  a  hushed  tone,  "  that  I'm  afraid 
of  her.  She's  got  designs  on  my  life — I'm  sure  of 
it." 

"  Don't,  I  pray  you,  entertain  so  absurd  an  idea," 
answered  the  Doctor. 

"  There's  one  thing  to  be  considered,"  said  Guy  bright 
ening  up,  "  She  hasn't  got  the  new  will  out  of  me  yet ; 
and  I'm  safe  until  that  work  is  done  Ha  !  Ha  !  I'm 
ahead  of  her,  Doctor  —  aint  I?"  He  laughed  in  a 
low,  chuckling  way,  that  chilled  the  Doctor's  blood. 

"  This  being  the  case,  there  is  no  fear  of  any  harm, 


v: 


294  NOTHING    BUT   MONEY. 

and  so  I  will  admit  your  wife,"  replied  the  Doctor, 
crossing  to  the  door,  against  the  sick  man's  remonstrance, 
and  opening  it.  As  Mrs.  Guy,  on  whose  face  the  Doc 
tor  read  doubt  and  questioning  suspicion,  glided  into 
the  room,  her  husband  shrunk  down,  and,  turning  his 
face  to  the  wall,  lay  motionless  as  if  asleep.  Crossing 
to  the  bed,  she  spoke  in  a  kind  voice  ;  but  he  made  no 
response.  Two  or  three  times  she  addressed  him  ;  but 
he  still  refused  to  recognize  her  presence. 

Doctor  Hofland  retired  from  the  chamber,  silently, 
motioning  to  Mrs.  Guy,  as  he  did  so.  She  followed  him 
out. 

"  It  will  not  do  to  leave  him  alone,  madam,"  said  the 
Doctor. 

"  He's  not  growing  violent,  is  he  !  "  Mrs.  Guy  turn 
ed  a  little  pale. 

"  His  condition  is  such,  that  harm  might  come  of  his 
being  left  to  himself.  The  door  was  locked  when  I  came. 
Has  that  occurred  before  ?  " 

"No." 

"  It  must  not  occur  again." 

As  the  Doctor  said  this,  Mrs.  Gny,  who  stood  near 
the  chamber  door,  which  was  partly  closed,  moved  for 
ward  with  a  spring.  As  she  did  so,  it  was  shut  with  a 
quick  jar,  and  the  key  turned  on  the  inside.  Her  move 
ment  was  too  late. 

The  Doctor  and  Mrs.  Guy  looked  at  each  other  in 
surprise  and  alarm.  Then  the  former  caught  at  the 
door,  and  rattled  it  violently,  calling,  in  a  demanding 
tone  — 

"  Mr.  Guy  !     Mr.  Guy  !     Open  this  door  !  " 


NOTHING    BUT    MONEY.  295 

"  You  can't  come  in  ;  so,  there's  no  use  in  making  a 
noise  !  "  answered  Guy  resolutely. 

"  If  you  will  go  down  stairs,  ma'am/'  said  the  Doc 
tor,  "  I  think  he  will  open  the  door  for  me.  Where  is 
Adam?" 

"  At  the  store." 

"  Send  for  him  immediately." 

"  I  don't  think  that  necessary,'Doctor.  And  besides, 
Adam  is  only  a  boy,  and  has  little  influence  with  his 
father.  If  you  can  induce  him  to  open  the  door,  I  will 
not  leave  the  room  asain." 

O 

"  I  think  you  had  better  send  for  Adam,  ma'am.  We 
may  need  him.  There  is  no  telling  how  violent  he  may 
become." 

"  Then  you  really  think  he's  losing  his  mind  ?  O, 
dear  !  "  And  Mrs.  Guy  clasped  her  hands  together, 
and  put  on  a  look  of  the  deepest  distress. 

"  We  are  losing  time,  ma'am,"  said  the  Doctor,  in 
an  anxious,  impatient  "way.  "  Go  down  stairs,  and 
send  for  Adam." 

The  Doctor  waited  until  Mrs.  Guy  was  out  of  hear 
ing  ;  then  putting  his  mouth  close  to  the  chamber  door, 
he  called,  in  a  loud  whisper, 

"  Let  me  in,  Mr  Guy  !     She's  gone  down  stairs." 

But  no  answer  came. 

"  Mr.  Guy  !  "  He  repeated  the  call  two  or  three 
times,  but  with  no  better  success. 

Listening  intently,  the  Doctor  heard  the  sick  man 
movino-  about  the  floor.  Then  there  was  a  noise  like 

O 

the  opening  of  a  window.     A  thrill  of  fear  went  through 
his  heart. 


NOTHING    BUT    MONEY. 

[r.  Guy !  "  He  cried  loudly,  and  struck  the  door 
two  or  three  times  with  imperative  raps. 

"  You  can't  come  in,"  answered  Guy,  now  speaking 
for  the  first  time. 

"  Open  the  door  !  I've  something  very  important  to 
communicate." 

"  What  is  it  ?  "  The  voice  sounded  nearer,  to  the 
Doctor's  inexpressable  relief. 

"Let  me  in,  quickly,  before  she  comes  up  stairs." 

"  Ha,  Doctor  !  I  understand  your  trick.  But  it 
won't  do.  She's  standing  just  behind  you,"  was  an 
swered  back. 

"  Upon  my  honor,  no  !  "  replied  the  Doctor. 

"  What  do  you  want  to  say?  Whisper  it  through 
the  key  hole  ;  —  I  can  hear." 

"  I  shall  do  no  such  thing,"  replied  the  Doctor,  as 
suming  the  tone  of  one  slightlv  offended.  "  And  I  must 

~  O  »/ 

say,  that  I'm  surprised  at  your  singular  conduct.  Is 
this  the  way  for  a  gentleman  to  treat  another,  and  in 
his  own  house  ?  Open  the  door,  or  I  shall  go  away  im 
mediately." 

All  was  silent  for  several  moments.  Then  the  Doc 
tor's  quick  ear  detected  a  stealthy  sound  in  the  lock. 
The  bolt  sprung  with  a  sudden  click.  He  pushed,  in 
stantly,  on  the  door,  and  it  gave  way  to  the  pressure. 
Guy  only  permitted  a  small  aperture  to  be  made,  and 
as  the  Doctor  crowded  through,  shut  the  door  and 
Blocked  it  again  instantly. 

'  "  Now,  sir,  what  have  you  of  importance  to  com 
municate  ?  "  demanded  Guy,  turning  upon  the  Doctor, 
with  doubt  and  suspicion  in  his  eyes. 


NOTHING   BUT   MONEY.  297 

"  What  am  I  to  do  with  your  daughter  ?  "  said  Doc- 

»/ 

tor  Hofland,  meeting  the  question,  promptly,  with  one 
that  involved  important  considerations. 

This  was  unexpected  on  the  part  of  Mr.  Guy,  as  his 
momentarily  suspended  breath  and  blank  countenance 
gave  witness.  He  stood  looking  at  the  Doctor  for  a  lit 
tle  while,  in  a  confused  way,  as  though  he  did  not  clear 
ly  understand  him. 

"  What  about  my  daughter  ?  "  he  asked,  at  length. 

"  She  is  at  my  house.     Your  daughter  Lydia." 

"  Oh  !  "  A  flash  broke  into  his  face,  as  we  some 
times  see  it  light  up  a  cloud.  •'  Lydia  !  "  His  voice 
was  angry. 

"  Yes.     You  know  she  has  been  sick." 

"  Haven't  I  said  my  say  about  her,  Doctor  ?  Why 
do  you  annoy  me  further  on  that  subject  ?  "  The  man 
ner  of  Guy  was  more  subdued  as  he  thus  spoke. 

"  I  have  no  wish  to  annoy  you,  sir,"  replied  Doctor 
Hofland.  "  But  you  are  her  father." 

"  I'm  not !     I  disown  her  !  "     He  grew  angry. 

"  Words  are  nothing  against  facts,"  said  the  Doctor, 
calmly.  "  You  are  her  father.  Think  !  I  put  it  to 
your  reason,  and  to  your  humanity." 

This  appeal  staggered  the  invalid's  weak  brain. 

"  Now,  what  I  wish  to  say,"  continued  the  Doctor, 
"  is,  that  Lydia  —  your  daughter  —  now  at  my  house, 
does  not  possess  the  ..means  of  going  to  her  husband. 
She  has  no  money." 

"  Oh,  well,  if  that's  all,  the  remedy  is  plain.  I'll 
send  her  some  money.  There  was  an  air  of  relief  about 
Mr.  Guy,  as  he  arose,  and  going  to  a  wardrobe,  opened 
13* 


298  NOTHING   BUT    MONEY. 

it,  and  took  from  the  pocket  of  his  coat  a  pocket-book. 
"  How  much  will  she  need  ?  "  *~ 

"  Send  her  a  good  supply.  If  you  will  turn  her  from 
your  door,  don't  let  it  be  empty  Landed,"  said  the  Doc 
tor. 

Guy  looked  at  him  sharply  for  a  moment,  and  then 
opening  the  pocket  book,  selected  four  five  dollar  bills. 

"  Will  that  do?  "  he  asked,  as  he  held  them  out. 

"  If  it  is  best  you  can  do,  yes ;  but  I  think  you  should 
be  more  liberal.  Remember,  that  she  is  to  be  no  further 
cost  to  you  —  that  her  husband  will  support  her  now 
—  and  under  this  view,  send  her  a  liberal  sum  of  mon- 

cy." 

"  You're  a  sharp  one,  Doctor  !  "  A  cunning  smile 
flickered  over  the  lips  of  Guy. 

"  Isn't  there  reason  in  what  I  say  ?  " 

"  Maybe  there  is."  And  he  commenced  counting 
over  the  bank  bills  which  had  been  removed  from  the 
pocket-book.  "  Fifty  dollars.  Shall  I  send  all  that  ?  " 

"  Better  make  it  five  hundred,''  said  the  Doctor. 
"  Haven't  you  a  blank  check  in  your  pocket-book  ?  " 

"  Five  hundred  dollars  !  "     Guy  looked  confounded. 

"  She  would  have  cost  you  twice  that  sum,  probably, 
in  a  single  year,  but  for  her  marriage,''  answered  Doc 
tor  Hofland,  with  the  utmost  composure.  "  Don't  you 
see  ?  " 

"  That's  so  ! >%  Guy's  feeble  mind  was  taken  by  this 
assault. 

"  Of  course  it's  so  !  And  as  you  are  going  to  turn 
her  out  into  the  world  —  to  cast  her  off  from  heart  and 
home  —  don't  let  her  depart  in  poverty  as  well  as  tears. 


NOTHING    BUT    MONEY.  299 

If  you  will  not  see  the  poor  child,  nor  give  her  your 
blessing,  send  her  enough  to  keep  the  gaunt  wolf,  hunger, 
from  her  door.'' 

"  I'll  think  about  that,"  answered  Guy,  knitting  his 
brows.  "  Here  are  fifty  dollars  for  her,  handing  the 
bank  bills  to  Doctor  Hofland.  u  I  never  carry  checks  in 
my  pocket-book,  so  I  can't  fill  up  one  if  I  would." 

"  But  you  could  give  me  an  order  on  your  firm  to 
receive  a  certain  sum  for  Lydia,"  urged  the  Doctor,  not 
willing  to  give  up  the  matter. 

"  Of  course  I  could  ;  but  then,  you  see,  I'm  not  go 
ing  to  do  it.  I'm  too  old  a  bird  to  be  caught  by  your 
chaff,  Doctor."  And  Guy  smiled  with  an  affected 
shrewdness,  that  was  painful  to  witness.  Then  as  a 
shadow  came  over  his  face,  he  asked  — 

"  Hadn't  you  better  give  me  a  receipt  for  that  mon 
ey  ?" 

The  Doctor  took  a  pencil  and  slip  of  paper  from  his 
pocket,  and  wrote  a  formal  receipt,  specifying  that  the 
fifty  dollars  were  for  Lydia. 

"  Will  that  answer  ?  "  he  inquired,  as  he  gave  the 
receipt  to  Mr.  Guy,  who  read  it  carefully. 

"  Yes,  sir,  that  will  do.  I'm  a  man  of  business  you 
must  understand,  Doctor.  Never  pay  money  without 
taking  a  receipt."  And  he  folded  the  narrow  bit  of  pa 
per  carefully,  and  laid  it  in  his  pocket  book. 

"  I'll  call  round  again  towards  evening,"  said  Doctor 
Hofland,  rising  from  the  table  at  which  he  had  pencilled 
the  receipt.  "  I  don't  see  that  I  can  do  anything  for 
you  now,  unless  you  will  permit  the  use  of  artificial 
means  for  inducino;  rest.  And  this  I  would  most  ear- 


300  NOTHING    BUT    MONEY. 

nestly  advise.  It  has  already  been  delayed  too  long. 
Think,  Mr.  Guy ;  it  is  almost  a  week  since  you  have 
had  a  refreshing  sleep.  Nature  cannot  stand  this  much 
longer." 

"  No  —  no  —  no  !  I've  said  no  fifty  times,  Doctor  ! 
— haven't  I  ?  "  responded  Guy  to  this,  showing  much 
disturbance. 

"  And  you  may  say  '  No,'  once  too  often,"  answered 
the  Doctor,  very  gravely.  "  I  see  no  help  for  you  with 
out  an  anodyne  to  quiet  your  nerves.  Sleep  is  the  only 
medicine  that  will  reach  your  case,  and  I  tell  you,  Mr. 
Guy,  it  must  be  had." 

"  I'll  have  the  room  darkened  and  kept  very  still. 
Sleep  will  come  soon  ;  I'm  sure  of  it." 

"  A  few  light  doses  of  morphia  can  do  you  no  harm. 
Depend  on  it,  my  dear  sir,  nothing  else  will  avail  now." 
The  Doctor's  manner  was  very  impressive.  As  he  look 
ed  at  Mr.  Guy,  he  saw  a  glance  of  terror  in  his  face. 
His  eyes  were  directed  to  a  remote  part  of  the  room. 
Suddenly  he  started  up,  partly  raising  his  hands  ;  a  dead 
pallor  overspreading  his  countenance.  For  a  moment, 
his  attitude  was  fixed  ;  then  as  if  some  fearful  apparition 
had  faded  from  his  vision,  he  caught  his  breath  with 
signs  of  relief,  and  throwing  himself  back  on  a  pillow, 
said,  with  considerable  solemnity  of  manner, 

"  Doctor  ;  I  wish  you'd  say  no- more  about  morphia. 
The  very  name  of  it  sends  a  shiver  along  my  nerves. 
I've  always  had  a  horror  of  opium  in  any  form  —  an 
idiosyncrasy,  no  doubt." 

He  closed  his  eyes  and  tried  to  keep  very  still ;  but, 
the  Doctor  noticed  a  constant  twitching  of  the  muscles 


NOTHING   BUT   MONEY.  301 

in  his  face,  accompanied  by  slightly  spasmodic  movements 
of  the  limbs. 

"  Very  well,  Mr.  Guy,"  said  the  Doctor.  "  The 
responsibility  must  rest  with  you.  Keep  very  quiet  ; 
have  the  room  darkened  ;  compose  your  thoughts.  I 
will  call  again  late  in  the  afternoon  ;  or,  should  you  wish 
to  see  me  at  an  earlier  hour,  send  to  my  office.  Good 
morning  !  " 

As  Doctor  Hofland  opened  the  chamber  door,  he 
quietly  removed  the  key,  and  placed  it  in  the  hands  of 
Mrs.  Guy,  whom  he  knew  would  be  found  on  the  other 
side. 

"  There  is  no  hope  for  him,"  he  whispered,  "  but  in 
the  administration  of  an  anodyne.  Unless  sleep  can  be 
thus  procured,  wreck  of  mind,  if  not  death,  will  be  in 
evitable.  Watch  him  carefully.  A  man  should  be  in 
the  room  all  the  while.  Have  you  sent  for  Adam  ?  " 

"  Yes."     But  the  woman  spoke  falsely. 

"I  will  be  here  again,  with  Doctor  L ,  in  the 

afternoon.  Good  mornino; !  "  And  the  Doctor  retired. 


CHAPTER  XXXII. 


OCTOR  Hofland  had  dismissed  his  last 
office  patient,  and  was  preparing  to  go 
out  for  his  afternoon  visits,  when  a  note 
was  placed  in  his  hands.  It  came  from 
Mrs.  Guy,  and  stated,  that  her  husband 
having  become  violent,  it  had  been  found 
necessary  to  remove  him  to  the  hospital. 
This  had  been  done,  she  said,  at  the  in 
stance  of  Doctor  L ,  their  family 

physician. 

Doctor  Hofland  read  the  note  twice,  and  then,  refold 
ing  it,  with  a  grave,  abstracted  air,  put  it  in  his  pocket, 
and  left  his  office  without  communicating  the  fact  to  any 
one.  The  case  being  thus  taken  out  of  his  hands  was, 
of  course,  now  beyond  his  reach ;  and  the  responsibility 
of  looking  after  it  removed.  Except  for  the  interest 
awakened  in  Lydia,  he  would  not  have  been  seriously 
affected  by  the  event.  A  momentary  throb  of  pain  ;  a 
shadow  of  regret ;  a  brief  consideration  of  the  case  as 
involving  a  lesson  in  life  —  and  it  would  have  been,  so 
far  as  he  was  concerned,  as  similar  events  in  society, 
occurring  on  the  outside  of  his  personal  relations.  Ex 
cept  for  Lydia,  he  would  not  have  stepped  aside  to  gain 
special  information  touching  the  removal  of  Mr.  Guy ; 


NOTHING    BUT   MONEY.  303 

but,  as  he  would  have  to  communicate  the  distressing 

O 

fact  on  his  return  home,  he  felt  under  obligation  to  see 
Doctor  L ,  and  learn  from  him  the  particulars  in 
volved.  They  were  not  satisfactory.  Doctor  L 

was  scarcely  as  communicative  as  he  could  have  desired, 
touching  the  condition  of  Mr.  Guy  at  the  time  he  was 
taken  from  the  house.  He  had  given  the  necessary 
certificate  ;  but,  only  when  questiened  closely,  did  he 
admit  the  fact  of  not  being  present  at  the  time  of  the 
removal 

"  You  do  not  know,  then,  whether  violence  had  to  be 
used  ?  "  said  Doctor  Hofland. 

"  There  was  no  violence,  I  think,"  returned  Doctor 

"  How  was  his  consent  to  the  removal  gained  ?  " 

"He  was  passive  —  indifferent — I  believe.  In  a 

kind  of  stupor,"  replied  Doctor  L ,  with  an  air  of 

cool  evasion  that  affected  Doctor  Hofland  unpleasantly. 

"  In  a  stupor  !     Had  he  taken  an  anodyne  ?  " 

"  Yes.     O  yes." 

"  I  was  not  aware  of  that.  Then,  you  have  seen  him 
since  morning?  '' 

"  I  was  there  about  two  o'clock,  and  found  him  quite 
composed.  Mrs.  Guy  said  that  he  had  consented  to 
take  a  small  dose  of  sulphate  of  morphia,  the  effects  of 
which  were  plainly  apparent.  She  then  consulted  me 
about  his  removal,  to  the  hospital,  and  I  thought  it  best 
to  place  him  there  while  he  was  in  a  condition  to  be 
taken  without  resistance,  and  so  gave  a  certificate,  to  be 
used  if  required.'' 

Beyond  this.  Doctor  Hofland  could  learn  nothing. 


304  NOTHING    BUT    MONEY. 

After  leaving  Doctor  L ,  he  thought  of  riding  over 

to  the  hospital,  which  stood  on  elevated  ground  at  the 
eastern  end  of  the  city,  more  than  a  mile  distant,  and 
seeing  the  resident  physician  ;  but  the  necessity  of  vis 
iting  a  number  of  patients  who  required  attention,  pre 
vented  his  doing  so,  and  he  returned  home  at  nightfall, 
with  no  particulars  of  Mr.  Guy's  removal  to  communi 
cate  in  answer  to  the  eager  questions  which  he  knew 
would  come  from  Lydia. 

"  How  is  father  ?  "  The  \vords  met  him  ere  his  foot 
was  fairly  beyond  the  threshold  of  his  door. 

The  Doctor  shook  his  head  —  looked  sober  —  but  did 
not  answer.  In  what  words  should  he  convey  the  sad 
intelligence  that  must  now  he  communicated  ? 

"  Is  he  worse,  Doctor  ?  "  The  pale,  anxious  face  of 
Lydia  grew  ashen. 

Doctor  Hofland  drew  his  arm  around  her,  and  lead 
ing  her  into  one  of  the  parlors,  said,  as  he  placed  her 
on  a  sofa,  and  sat  down  by  her  side  — 

"  Your  father  is  better,  I  think,  than  when  I  saw 
him  in  the  morning.  An  anodyne  was  administered 
this  afternoon,  under  which  he  fell  asleep.  But,  it  was 

thought  best  by  Doctor   L ,  to  have  him  removed 

to  the  hospital,  while  unconscious  through  its  influence." 
"  To  the  hospital,  Doctor  !     Why  to  the  hospital  ?" 
Lydia   was    wholly  unprepared  for  the  announcement 
which  had  been  made. 

"  I  should  not  have  advised  its  being  done,  though 
his  mind  has  wrandered  for  the  last  day  or  two,"  replied 
the  Doctor,  in  as  even  a  voice  as  he  could  assume. 
"  Sleep,  under  the  anodyne  which  he  has  consented  to 
take,  will,  I  trust,  restore  the  balance  of  reason." 


NOTHING   BUT   MONEY.  305 

The  whole  sad  truth  now  flashed  on  Lyclia.  Her  fa 
ther  was  deranged,  and  in  a  hospital !  Of  little  weight 
was  the  Doctor's  last  assuring  sentence.  She  accepted 
the  worst  as  true,  and  gave  way  to  the  most  violent  par 
oxysms  of  grief. 

In  the  calm  that  followed,  Doctor  Hofland  thought  it 
best  to  communicate  more  particularly  the  state  of  her 
father's  mind,  and  to  prepare  her  for  the  worst,  if  it 
came.  He  had  already  learned  enough  about  her  hus 
band,  through  her  own  admissions  in  regard  to  him,  to 
feel  seriously  concerned  for  Lydia's  future  well-being 
and  happiness.  As  far  as  he  could  see,  the  young  man 
was  little  more  than  a  social  idler,  who  had  sought  to 

O 

advance  himself  in  the  world  by  a  rich  marriage.  At 
first,  he  thought  of  suggesting  to  send  for  him,  in  order 
that  Lydia  might  remain  longer  in  the  city  ;  but,  after 
further  consideration,  it  seemed  not  best  to  do  so.  On 
the  following  day,  having  ascertained,  that  her  father 
was  in  a  better  condition  physically,  though  not  men 
tally  restored,  Lydia  concluded  to  return  to  her  husband, 
Doctor  HonVind  promising  to  keep  her  informed  of  every 
material  change  in  her  father's  condition.  And  so  she 

O  • 

departed,  going  out  from  the  place  of  her  birth  a  tear 
ful  exile —  banished  from  her  home  —  cast  off — con 
temned  —  and  with  scarcely  the  feeblest  hope  of  return. 
If  it  had  not  been  for  the  stimulus  of  a  keenly  felt  in 
dignation  and  bitterness  towards  her  step-mother,  the 
wretched  girl  would  scarcely  have  borne  herself  up. 
What  had  she  to  look  forward  to  in  life  ?  That  one  act 
had  separated  her  completely  from  all  former  conditions 
and  associations,  and  she  must  now  fall  from  luxurious 


306  NOTHING    BUT   MONEY. 

ease  and  independence,  where  pride  and  self-love  had 
been  stimulated  as  plants  in  hot  beds,  down  into  obscu 
rity  and  poverty  —  for  that  was  the  sphere  of  the  hus 
band  she  had  chosen.  The  stern  repulsion  of  her  step 
mother  left  no  room  for  hope  in  that  direction.  She 
had  clung,  almost  desperately,  under  the  fear  that  ap 
palled  her  spirit,  after  being  denied  admission  to  her 
father,  to  the  belief  that  his  forgiveness  would  be  reach 
ed  sooner  or  later ;  but  all  now  was  in  danger  of  being 
lost.  If  this  aberration  of  mind  should  become  per 
manent,  what  hope  of  reconciliation  with  the  family 
remained?  Scarcely  a  shadow!  Adam  had  already 
repulsed  her  in  the  cruelest  manner  :  and,  as  for  the  rest, 
she  had  lived  with  them  in  perpetual  strife,  from  the 
earliest  times  that  she  could  remember.  There  was  no 
love  for  her  in  any  heart  at  home  ;  and  no  one,  therefore, 
to  plead  her  cause. 

For  the  week  that  followed,  Doctor  Hofland's  engage- 

O     ~ 

ments  were  more  than  usually  pressing,  and  during  that 
period  he  did  not  find  opportunity  for  a  visit  to  the  hos 
pital.  On  the  ninth  day  after  Mr.  Guy's  removal 
thither,  he  called  on  the  resident  physician.  To  his 
inquiry  in  regard  to  him,  he  received  for  answer,  that 
Mr.  Guy  had  been  taken  out  of  the  institution  three 
days  before. 

"  Ah  ;  I'm  glad  to  learn  that,"  said  Doctor  Hofland. 
"  So  the  derangement  was  only  temporary  ?  " 

"  He  was  better,  but  not  fully  restored,"  replied  the 
physician.  "  My  advice  was,  to  let  him  continue  here 
for  a  longer  period  ;  but  his  wife  came,  in  company  with 
Doctor  L ,  and  insisted  on  taking  him  home.  I 


NOTHING   BUT    MONEY.  307 

think,  from  what  I  saw  in  his  face  and  manner,  that  he 
did  not  wish  to  accompany  them.  But,  he  made  no 
resistance  ;  and  as  they  assumed  the  responsibility  of  his 
removal,  I,  of  course,  could  not  object." 

"  How  did  he  act,  while  here  ?  "  inquired  Doctor 
Hofland. 

"  He  was  under  the  influence  of  morphia,  when  he 
arrived  in  company  with  his  wife  and  Mr.  Larobe." 

"  Mr.  Larobe  !  "  Doctor  Hofland  could  not  conceal 
the  surprise  he  felt  on  hearing  this. 

"  Yes,  Mr.  Larobe  was  with  them.  The  effect  of 
the  anodyne  did  not  pass-  off  for  nearly  twelve  hours, 
and  we  had  fears,  during  a  portion  of  the  time,  that  the 
dose  might  have  been  too  large.  On  becomeing  fully 
awake,  and  conscious  of  his  real  position,  Mr.  Guy  was 
shocked  ;  but,  after  the  first  manifestations  of  surprise 
and  indignation,  he  submitted  passively  ;  though  remain 
ing  silent  and  gloomy." 

"  Did  he  sleep  again,  without  having  resort  to  mor 
phia?" 

"  Yes  ;  but  not  for  nearly  twenty-four  hours.  He 
persistently  refused  to  take  another  anodyne,  and  we  did 
not  care  to  use  force  unless  as  a  last  resort.  Happily, 
nature  did  the  work  in  her  own  way.  Sleep  came  at 
length,  with  its  salutary  influences." 

"  Have  you  heard  of  him  since  he  was  taken  away  ?  " 
asked  Doctor  Hofland. 

"  No,  but  presume  all  is  going  on  well." 

"  You  think  that  he  was  decidedly  better  when  remov 
ed  ?" 

"  Yes ;  I  should  say  that  he  was  better  —  though  not 


308  NOTHING    BUT    MONEY. 

as  well  as  I  had  hoped  to  see  him  become  after  natural 
sleep  was  restored.  I'm  afraid,  should  anything  occur  to 
disturb  him  seriously,  that  his  brain  will  not  be  strong 
enough  to  bear  the  excitement." 

"  Did  he  seem  clearly  to  realize  the  fact  of  haying  been 
placed  in  an  asylum  for  the  insane  ?  " 

"  I  think  so." 

"  How  do  you  judge  as  to  the  effect  of  this  on  his 
reason  ?  " 

"  I  think  it  would  have  been  wisest  on  giving  him  the 
anodyne,  to  wait  and  see  the  condition  of  his  mind  after 
the  effect  subsided.  The  home  surroundings  and  in 
fluences  would  have  been  more  favorable  to  recovery 
than  such  as  were  met  with  here.  At  least  this  is  my 
opinion." 

"  And  one  in  which  I  fully  agree  with  you,"  said 
Doctor  Hofland.  "  Had  I  been  consulted,  as  I  should 
have  been,  I  never 'would  have  advised  the  course  that 
was  taken.  The  case  is  a  sad  one,  and  I  fear  for  the 
ultimate  result.  That  intense,  absorbing  love  of  money, 
which  seems  to  have  been  the  ruling  impulse  of  his  life, 
often  becomes  a  disease  which  you  know  to  be  as  marked 
in  its  symptoms  and  progress  as  any  laid  down  in  the 
books,  almost  always  terminating  fatally  to  mind  or 
body.  Few  men  who  thus  abandon  themselves  to  the 
one  idea  of  making  and  hoarding  money,  live  to  what 
we  call  a  good  old  age.  The  sword  of  their  thought 
gets  too  sharp  for  the  scabbard,  and  cuts  its  way 
through." 

"  Yes,  that  is  the  case  in  too  large  a  number  of  in 
stances.  Mere  money  makers,  if  they  survive  either  of 


NOTHING    BUT    MONEY.  309 

the  disasters  you  have  referred  to,  are  the  feeblest  and 
unhappiest  of  old  men  ;  self-tormentors,  and  inflictors 
of  pain,  or  annoyance,  on  all  who  are  so  unfortunate  as 
to  be  within  the  sphere  of  their  influence." 

"  In  this,"  remarked  Doctor  Hofland,  "  we  have  in 
structive  illustration  of  man's  folly  in  limiting  the  range 
of  his  thoughts  and  feelings  to  the  little  world  of  selfish 
interests  —  the  poorest  and  meanest  of  which  are  involv 
ed  in  mere  money  getting,  from  the  sordid  love  of  mon 
ey.  Happiness  is  the  end  he  sets  in  view  —  for  that,  all 
men  sigh  in  present  dissatisfaction  and  unrest  —  yet,  how 
signally  does  the  venture  fail.  Rich  old  men,  who,  from 
the  beginning,  set  their  hearts  on  mere  possession,  are 
almost  always  peevish,  fretful,  ill-natured,  and  dissatisfied 
with  all  around  them.  The  exceptional  instances  are 
very  few,  and  not  highly  creditable  to  human  nature. 
If  a  man  has  nothing  but  money  on  which  to  subsist  his 
spirit  when  he  becomes  old,  he  is  poor  and  wretched 
indeed.  Feebleness,  or  total  loss  of  reason,  comes,  too 
often,  as  the  mind's  sad  and  only  refuge  from  misery." 


CHAPTER  XXXIII. 


IFTER  writing,  as  he  had  promised,  to 
Lydia,  an  account  of  her  father's  con 
dition  —  stating  that  he  was  at  home 
with  his  family  again  —  Doctor  Hof- 
land  dismissed  the  subject  from  his 
mind,  as  one  not  involving  any  special 
care  or  responsibility  on  his  part,  and 
heard  nothing  about  Mr.  Guy  for 
several  weeks.  Then,  with  no  little 
astonishment,  he  learned,  that,  when  removed  from  the 
hospital,  instead  of  being  taken  home,  he  was  sent  to  a 
private  asylum  somewhere  in  the  State  of  New  York, 
and  that,  within  a  few  days,  a  commission  of  lunacy  had 
pronounced  him  hopelessly  insane. 

Not  long  afterwards  it  came  to  the  Doctor's  knowl 
edge,  that  a  guardian  had  been  appointed  for  Mr.  Guy's 
children,  and  his  entire  property  removed  from  his  con 
trol.  As  far  as  he  could  learn,  Justin  Larobe,  the  law 
yer  before  mentioned,  had  been  an  active  mover  in  the 
case,  as  legal  adviser  of  Mrs.  Guy,  and  was  the  duly 
appointed  guardian. 

"  As  well  put  sheep  in  the  guardianship  of  a  wolf," 
said  the  Doctor,  to  his  wife,  in  communicating  the  infor 
mation.  "  If  anything  could  restore  rational  vigor  to 


NOTHING   BUT   MONEY.  311 

the  mind  of  Adam  Guy,  it  would  be  a  knowledge  of  the 
fact,  that  his  dearly  loved  treasures  were  in  the  grasp 
of  this  unscrupulous  man.  If  there  be  any  legal  tricks 
by  which  the  heirs  can  be  defrauded,  as-  surely  as  the 
sun  shines  are  they  doomed  to  poverty,  even  though 
their  father's  gold  may  now  be  counted  by  scores  of 
thousands." 

So  covertly  were  all  the  proceedings  growing  out  of 
Mr.  Guv's  mental  state  conducted,  that  Adam  knew 
nothing  about  them  until  the  decree  establishing  a  guard 
ianship  was  issued,  and  Mr.  Larobe  announced  himself  as 
standing  to  him  in  his  father's  place.  Adam,  now  in 
his  twenty-first  year,  could  not  repress  his  indignation. 

"Why  was  I  not  consulted  in  this  thing?"  he  de 
manded. 

"  You  must  put  that  question  to  your  mother,"  was 
the  lawyer's  cool  answer. 

And,  he  did  so,  within  the  next  ten  minutes.  The 
reply  was  characteristic  of  the  woman,  and  significant  of 
her  purposes. 

"  Minors  are  not  usually  consulted  in  the  matter  of 
guardianships." 

There  was  a  cold  sneer  on  her  lips. 

"  In  eight  months,  I  will  be  of  age,  and  then " 

Adam  checked  himself. 

"  And  then  ?     Go  on,  sir." 

"  I  will  set  aside  this  guardianship." 

"  Ah,  will  you?"  The  lady  was  cool  and  cynical. 
"  Am  glad  to  be  advised  of  your  intentions  so  early. 
Of  course,  your  efforts  will  be  successful,  seeing  that 
you  are  the  youngest  child." 


312  NOTHING   BUT    MONEY. 

Stung  by  her  manner,  and  the  cool  defiance  exhibit 
ed  in  her  response,  Adam  lost  control  of  himself,  and  in 
dulged  in  a  storm  of  invective,  accusation,  and  threat, 
to  all  of  which  his  step-mother  listened  without  a  sign 
of  feeling.  When  he  was  done,  she  said,  very  calm- 

ly- 

"  Adam,  there  is  one  thing  that  I  wish  yon  to  under 
stand  —  you,  and  all  others,  claiming  to  make  a  part  of 
this  household.  I  am  head  and  ruler ;  and  my  will, 
henceforth,  is  to  be  absolute  law.  Now,  I  am  a  peace- 
lover,  and  mean  that  peace  shall  be  maintained  here. 
I  will  have  no  more  outbreaks  of  passion  —  no  more 
4 scenes'  —  no  more  calling  of  hard  names  —  no  more 
fault-finding.  If  you,  as  your  father's  oldest  son,  are 
willing  to  remain  on  these  conditions,  well ;  if  not,  the 
world  is  wide  enough  for  us  all.  Do  you  understand 
me  ?  " 

"  Perhaps  I  do,"  answered  the  young  man  whose 
face  had  become  deadly,  pale  —  pale  from  intense  pas 
sion. 

"  Very  well,"  said  Mrs.  Guy,  coldly.  She  was 
about  turning  away,  when  he  pronounced  her  name, 
sharply.  She  looked  at  him,  with  a  glance  of  half  in 
different  inquiry  on  her  face. 

"  I  think  I  see  your  hand,  madam." 

There  was  the  father's  air  of  stern  resolution  in  the 
boy. 

"  Ah  ?  "  The  sneer  in  Mrs.  Guy's  tone,  did  not  al 
together  conceal  the  sudden  surprise  occasioned  by  the 
words  and  manner  of  Adam. 

"  And  I  do  not  mean  to  be  driven  out;  as  you  pro- 


NOTHING    BUT    MONEY.  313 

pose  to  yourself.  I  shall  remain,  and  keep  you  under 
surveillance  — :  you,  and  my  precious  guardian  !  " 

"  Adam  !  By !  "  The  subtle,  self-poised  wo 
man,  was  thrown  for  an  instant  off  her  guard ;  but  she 
caught  up  the  lines  of  self-control  the  moment  they 
dropped  from  her  hands,  and  grasped  them  tightly 
again.  In  doing  so,  her  teeth  sank  into  her  lip  so 
sharply  as  to  draw  blood. 

"  By  what  ?  Go  on."  For  a  little  while,  the  boy 
stood  master  of  the  position  ;  but,  only  for  a  little  while. 
His  step-mother  withdrew  into  herself  again,  and  of 
fered  him  no  salient  point  of  attack,  thus  baffling  his 
courageous  assault. 

"  I  shall  not  repeat  the  admonition  I  gave  you  a  little 
while  ago,"  she  said,  with  well  assumed  indifference. 
"  Unless  your  conduct  is  in  conformity  with  the  rule  I 
have  announced  as  first  in  this  household,  you  cannot 
remain  ;  so,  if  the  purpose  to  act  as  a  spy  is  carried  out 
you  must  put  yourself  on  your  good  behavior  —  other 
wise,  the  design  will  signally  fail." 

And,  passing  out  from  the  room  in  which  the  inter 
view  occurred,  she  left  Adam  to  his  own  thoughts,  which 
were  far  from  being  as  clear  and  determinate  as  he  had 
sought  to  make  his  step-mother  believe. 

Only  a  few  weeks  were  permitted  to  elapse  from  the 
date  of  Larobe's  appointment  as  guardian,  ere  he  gave 
formal  notice  to  the  firm  in  which  Mr.  Guy  was  senior 
partner,  of  his  intention  to  withdraw  the  interest  he  rep 
resented  ;  in  other  words,  to  dissolve  the  co-partnership, 
and  change  the  status  of  property  held  in  the  business. 
Against  this,  Adam  at  once  protested  in  the  most  reso- 
14 


314  NOTHING    BUT    MONEY. 

lute  manner.  He  understood  at  a  glance,  the  wrong  in 
volved  in  such  a  step  —  especially,  the  wrong  to  him 
self  ;  for  he  had  steadily  looked  forward  to  a  position  in 
the  firm  as  partner ;  and,  since  his  father's  unfortunate 
loss  of  reason,  to  an  actual  representation  of  his  interest. 

"  You  will  not  agree  to  this  ?  "  he  said  to  his  father's 
partners,  confident  that  they  would  interpose  in  some 
way  to  prevent  so  fatal  a  step  from  being  taken  —  a  step 
which  must  separate  the  estate,  now  held  in  trust  for  the 
heirs  of  his  father,  from  large  annual  dividends  in  one 
of  the  most  profitably  conducted  establishments  in  the 
city. 

"  We  have  no  alternative,"  was  the  answer  received 
by  Adam.  "  Mr.  Larobe  is  competent  to  order  a  dis 
solution,  and  we  must  submit." 

"  May  I  see  the  written  agreement,  under  which  the 
firm  now  exists  ?  " 

The  partners  looked  at  each  other,  inquiringly,  hesi 
tated,  and  then  one  made  answer  — 

"  That  will  be  submitted  to  Mr.  Larobe,  as  represen 
tative  of  your  father's  estate.  He  alone  has  a  right  to 
call  for  it." 

Adam  understood  them  now.  Why  should  there  be 
any  hesitation  about  letting  him  see  the  agreement? 
He  felt  that  there  could  only  be  one  answer  to  the  ques 
tion.  They  were  eager  to  seize  the  advantage  offered,  by 
which  this  whole  business  would  fall  into  their  hands  ; 
seize  it  at  once,  untramelled  by  any  stipulations  looking 
to  an  ultimate  dissolution  of  the  firm  which  might  exist 
in  the  partnership  papers. 

And  this  was  the  truth.     According  to  mutual  agree- 


NOTHING    BUT    MONEY.  315 

ment,  expressed  in  writing,  one  year's  notice  of  intended 
withdrawal  from  the  firm  had  to  be  given.  If  this  were 
adhered  to,  the  interest  of  Mr.  Guy  could  not  be  closed 
for  a  twelvemonth.  But,  Mrs.  Guy,  acting  through 
Larobe.  was  eager  to  have  all  the  property  in  a  controll 
able  shape  as  quickly  as  possible,  and  particularly  before 
Adam  reached  the  age  of  twenty-one.  The  business 
partners  of  Mr.  Guy,  accepting  the  opportunity  for  get 
ting  rid  of  their  senior,  by  which  they  might  grasp  the 
entire  establishment  for  themselves,  were  not  unwilling 
to  meet  the  views  of  his  legal  representative,  and  ar 
range  for  an  immediate  closing  of  his  interest,  which  was 
done  as  speedily  as  possible. 

It  was  in  vain  that  Adam  remonstrated,  and  insisted 
on  seeing  the  articles  of  agreement ;  he  only  worked 
alienation  towards  himself  in  both  parties,  and  gave  a 
fair  opportunity  to  his  father's  old  associates  in  business 
to  signify  their  .wish  to  dispense  with  his  presence  at  the 
desk  he  had  been  occupying  for  over  a  year.  Removed 
in  consequence  from  a  position  where  he  would  have 
been  able  to  keep  himself  advised  in  regard  to  the  pro 
gressive  withdrawal  of  his  father's  interest,  with  the 
amounts  paid  over,  and  the  probable  line  of  investments, 
Adam  found  himself  completely  baffled  in  his  purpose  to 
dog  the  steps  of  Larobe,  who  assumed  towards  him  an 
impenetrable,  half-offended  reserve,  on  all  occasions 
when  they  happened  to  meet.  A  small  allowance  of 
money  was  doled  out  through  his  step-mother,  Larobe 
refusing  to  have  any  biisiness  intercourse  with  him,  on 
the  ground  of  having  received  an  insult. 

So  completely  had   Mr.  Guy  separated  himself  from 


316  NOTHING    BUT   MONEY. 

social  life  —  so  entirely  had  he  put  confidence  in  mon 
ey  alone,  as  his  best  and  most  enduring  friend,  that  now, 
in  the  great  city  where  he  had  lived  and  grown  rich, 
there,  was  none  to  look  after  the  interests  of  his  chil 
dren  and  protect  them  from  wrong  —  none  to  examine 
into  his  unhappy  case,  and  see  that  he  was  not  held  a 
prisoner  on  pretence  of  insanity,  rather  than  in  a  saluta 
ry  and  needed  confinement.  Suddenly,  a  tempest  had 
swept  down  upon  the  sea  where  he  had  spread  his  sails 
so  long  and  proudly  to  the  summer  airs ;  and,  though 
his  vessel  went  down  in  the  sight  of  hundreds,  none  were 
drawn  to  the  rescue,  and  few,  if  any,  were  conscious  of 
pity  or  sympathy.  Having  withdrawn  himself  from  all 
community  of  interests  —  from  all  good-fellowship  with 
his  kind  —  ignoring,  in  the  narrow  spirit  of  mere  "  self- 
help,"  all  the  generous  impulses  of  mutual  help,  there 
was  none  to  care  what  might  befall  him  in  the  voyage  of 
life.  And  so,  when  disaster  came,  he  was  left  to  the 
help  of  his  money-gods.  If  they  could  not  save  him,  his 
case  was  hopeless.  Alas  !  how  hopeless  it  was  proving  ! 
A  dead  calm  of  months  followed.  John  was  still 
away  at  sea  ;  but,  letters  from  the  captain  of  the  vessel 
in  which  he  had  sailed  as  supercargo,  gave  a  very  dis 
couraging  account  of  his  habits  and  conduct.  He 

o       o 

seemed  to  be  completely  demoralized.  Lydia  had  made 
several  attempts  to  effect  a  reconciliation  with  her  fami 
ly  ;  but,  all  overtures  were  repulsed!  The  conduct  of 
Edwin  at  school,  was  so  bad,  that  the  principal  had  writ 
ten  several  times,  threatening  to  dismiss  him.  In  the 
midst  of  all  this,  the  step-mother  held  herself  at  a  cold 
distance  from  Adam  and  his  youngest  sister,  Frances, 


NOTHING   BUT   MONEY.  317 

who  remained  at  home.  Occasionally,  Mr.  Larobe 
came  to  see  her,  on  business  ;  but,  these  were  rare  oc 
currences,  as  she  preferred  seeing  him  at  his  own  office, 
in  order  to  blind  Adam,  who  was  always  on  the  alert. 
While,  so  far  as  Adam  knew,  the  intercourse  between 
his  step-mother  and  guardian  was  limited  to  rare  inter 
views,  not  a  week  passed,  without  close  conference  be 
tween  them. 

One  day  —  it  was  only  a  month  or  two  from  the  time 
when  the  young  man  would  reach  his  majority  —  Adam 
met  Doctor  Hofland.  They  had  no  acquaintance  with 
each  other.  In  fact,  Doctor  Hofland  did  not  even  know, 
by  sight,  the  son  of  his  early  friend ;  but,  hearing  his 
name  mentioned  in  a  company,  where  both  happened  to 
be  present,  he  drew  him  aside,  and  made  inquiry  about 
his  father. 

"  No  better,"  -was  the  answer  received. 

"  Where  is  he?  "  asked  the  Doctor. 

"  Somewhere  in  New  York,"  replied  Adam. 

"  In  the  city  ?  " 

"  No,  sir;  I  believe  not ;  somewhere  in  the  state." 

"Arid  don't  you  really  know  where  he  is?"  The 
tone  of  surprise  in  which  this  was  spoken,  brought  the 
blood  to  Adam's  face. 

"  He's  in  an  Asylum,  near  Troy.''  The  young  man 
stammered,  and  looked  confused.  Doctor  Hofland  was 
confounded  ;  for,  he  understood  this  to  be  only  a  guess, 
or  an  evasion. 

"  If  you  are  really  in  ignorance  touching  your  father's 
condition,  and  place  of  confinement,"  he  said,  with  con 
siderable  irnpressivencss  of  manner,  "  it  is  your  duty  to 
inform  yourself  as  speedily  as  possible." 


318  NOTHING    BUT    MONEY. 

Doctor  Hofland  could  not  read,  to  his  own  satisfaction, 
the  effect  produced  by  this  sentence.  Adam  was  either 
shocked  or  offended.  No  answer  was  made  ;  and  the 
Doctor,  feeling  that  he  had  no  right  to  intrude  farther, 
remarked  on  some  current  topic,  and  then  left  the  young 
man  to  his  own  thoughts.  He,  soon  after,  missed  him 
from  the  company. 

On  that  same  evening,  and  not  very  long  after  his 
brief  interview  with  Doctor  Hofland,  Adam  presented 
himself  before  his  step-mother,  and,  with  more  agitation 
in  his  voice  than  he  had  the  power  to  control,  said  ab 
ruptly,  and  with  a  significance  of  tone  that  startled  Mrs. 
Guy- 

"  Where  is  father  ?  " 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  I  don't  get  the  drift  of  your 
question,"  said  Mrs.  Guy,  so  calmly  as  to  conceal  the 
quicker  pulsations  already  leaping  away  from  her  heart. 

"  I  simply  said  —  where  is  father  ?  " 

*'  He's  in  an  insane  asylum.  Were  you  never  made 
aware  of  the  fact?"  How  very  even  was  her  low- 
toned  voice,  in  which  was  just  apparent  a  vein  of  sur 
prise. 

"  Of  course,  I'm  aware  of  that  fact ;  but,  from  some 
cause,  the  location  has  never  been  communicated. 
What  my  question  involves,  is  the  place  of  asylum." 

"  And  don't  you  really  know  ?  "  The  expression  of 
astonishment  on  the  part  of  Mrs.  Guy  was  very  decided. 

"  That  information  you  have,  singularly  enough,  with 
held." 

"  What  do  you  mean,  sir  ?  "  A  flash  sprung  from 
the  woman's  cold  eyes. 


NOTHING    BUT    MONEY.  319 

"  Just  what  I  have  said,  madam  —  that  information 
you  have,  singularly  enough,  withheld.  More  than 
once,  I  have  asked  where  my  father  was  confined,  but 
never  received  a  satisfactory  answer." 

"  Indeed  !  Well,  you  have  shown  yourself  to  be  a 
loving  and  dutiful  son  !  "  How  bitterly  she  sneered. 
"  A  year,  almost,  since  your  poor  father  was  taken  away, 
and  yet,  in  all  that  time,  you  remain  ignorant  and  indif 
ferent  about  him  —  don't  even  know  in  what  institution 
he  is  confined  !  " 

"  Will  you  now  inform  me  ?"  said  Adam,  master 
ing,  by  a  vigorous  effort,  the  wave  of  passion,  that  was 
about  sweeping  him  away,  and  revealing  only  a  slight 
tremor  in  his  voice. 

"  Certainly."  Mrs.  Guy  smiled,  and  with  a  mock 
graciousness  of  manner  that  was  excessively  irritatino-. 

"  Where  ?  " 

"  On  Staten  Island." 

"  In  what  asylum  ?     Where  is  it  located  ?  " 

"  The  institution  is  one  of  the  best  in  the  country," 
said  Mrs.  Guy,  speaking  with  deliberation,  and  evident 
ly  seeking  to  gain  time  for  thought.  "  We  placed  your 
father  there,  because  we  desired  to  secure  for  him  in  his 
unhappy  condition,  the  wisest  moral  treatment,  and  the 
highest  professional  skill." 

"  What  is  the  name  of  this  institution  ?  "  inquired 
Adam. 

"  Woodville,"  answered  Mrs.  Guy. 

"  How  is  it  reached  ?  " 

"  Mr.  Larobe  can  inform  you.  I  have  not  been 
there." 


320  NOTHING    BUT    MONEY. 

"  Although  my  father  has  been  away  from  home  for 
nearly  a  year !  "  Adam  could  not  let  the  opportunity 
for  a  retaliatory  thrust  at  his  step-mother  pass  unim 
proved. 

"  His  mental  state  is  such  as  to  render  the  presence 
of  his  friends  unavailing  for  good.  If  that  were  not  so, 
I  should  have  been  with  him  often,"  said  Mrs.  Guy,  in 
imperturbable  manner.  "  But  I  receive  frequent  reports 
of  his  condition,  and  have  the  calm  satisfaction  of  know 
ing  that  all  in  human  power  to  do  for  him,  is  done,  and 
done  under  my  direction.  If  you  are  in  any  doubt  on 
this  subject,  I  would  advise  an  early  visit  to  the  institu 
tion  ;  and,  I  must  say,  that  your  failure  to  do  so  up  to 
this  time,  and  general  indifference  touching  your  father, 
strikes  me  as  very  singular.  Such  indifference  in  a  son, 
I  have  never  before  seen  exhibited." 

Adam  was  not  skilled  enough  in  human  nature,  to 
read  the  true  meaning  of  all  this.  His  step-mother  was 
too  deep  for  him. 

"  I  shall  not  lie  under  that  reproach  long,"  returned 
the  young  man,  angrily. 

"  I  would  not,"  was  coldly  answered. 

And  there  the  interview  ended. 

"  Will  you  get  for  me,  from  Mr.  Larobe,  the  exact 
locality  of  that  aslyum  ?  "  said  Adam,  to  his  step-mother, 
on  the  next  day. 

"  Why  not  get  it  from  him  yourself  ?  "  was  replied, 
"  I  don't  expect  to  see  him  very  soon." 

"  Mr.  Larobe  and  I  are  not  on  the  best  of  terms  ; 
and  it  will  not  be  agreeable  for  me  to  call  at  his  office." 

u  Oh !  I'm  sorry.     If  I  see  him,  I  will  ask  him,  of 


NOTHING    BUT    MONEY.  321 

course,"  said  Mrs.  Guy,  with  indifference.  "  But  it  is 
not  at  all  likely,  that  he  will  be  here  for  some  time." 

"  Can't  you  send  him  a  note  ?  "  inquired  Adam. 

"  Yes,  I  could  do  so."  Mrs.  Guy's  answer  was  not 
outspoken. 

"  Will  you  ?  " 

"  I'll  think  about  it,"  and  she  retired  from  the  room. 
Adam  soon  after  left  the  house.  It  was  beginning  to 
shape  itself  more  and  more  distinctly  in  his  mind  that 
something  was  wrong  in  respect  to  his  father ;  and  at 
last  suspicion  took  the  form  of  doubt  in  regard  to  his 
real  insanity.  Might  he  not  be  held  in  confinement, 
through  the  bribery  of  his  keepers  ?  The  possibility  of 
suefh  a  thing,  once  imagined,  shocked  the  young  man, 
and  filled  him  with  anxious  alarm.  After  brooding  over 
the  suggestion  for  awhile,  he  determined  to  see  Mr. 
Larobe  himself,  and  learn  all  that  he  might  feel  disposed 
to  communicate  in  regard  to  his  father  ;  and  so,  after 
conquering,  with  a  strong  effort,  his  unwillingness  to 
meet  the  lawyer,  he  finally,  under  self-compulsion,  en 
tered  his  office. 

"  Can  I  see  Mr.  Larobe  ?  "  he  asked  of  a  young  man 
who  was  writing  at  a  table. 

"  He  is  engaged  at  present,  but  will  be  at  leisure  in  a 
few  minutes.  Sit  down  ;  "  and  the  young  man  pointed 
to  a  chair. 

Adam  took  the  chair.  Adjoining  the  room  in  which 
'he  found  himself,  was  another,  the  door  of  which  stood 
ajar.  In  a  little  while,  he  noticed  a  murmur  of  voices 
coming  from  this  room ;  and  his  ear  soon  detected,  at 
intervals,  the  tones  of  a  woman.  Nearly  a  quarter  of  an 
14* 


322  NOTHING    BUT    MONEY. 

hour  elapsed,  and  still  the  murmur  of  voices  went  on. 
Adam  grew  impatient  at  length,  and,  rising,  walked 
three  or  four  times  across  the  room. 

"  I'll  drop  in  again,"  he  said. 

"  He  can't  be  occupied  much  longer,"  interposed  the 
young  man,  who  was  a  law  student  in  the  office. 

Adam's  hand  was  now  on  the  door. 

"  I'll  return  in  half  an  hour." 

"  What  name  shall  I  give  ?  "  asked  the  student. 

"  Say  that  Mr.  Guy  called." 

"  Mr.  Guy  !  oh  !  "  A  gleam  of  intelligence  lighted 
the  young  man's  face.  "  Just  wait  a  moment.  I'll  in 
form  Mr.  Larobe  that  you  are  here."  And  the  student, 
first  tapping  at  the  door,  pushed  it  open,  and  gliding  into 
the  back  office,  carefully  shut  the  door  behind  him.  He 
remained  a  few  moments,  and  then  returning,  said  — 

"  Can  you  call  at  four  o'clock  this  afternoon  ?  Mr. 
Larobe  has  several  business  engagements  this  morning, 
but  will  be  pleased  to  see  you  at  four." 

"  Very  well.  I'll  endeavor  to  be  here  at  the  time  you 
mention.  Good  morning."  And  Adam  withdrew, 
feeling  a  sense  of  relief  at  having  escaped  meeting  with 
the  lawyer,  towards  whom  he  entertained  a  bitter  ani 
mosity.  Not  long  after  his  retirement,  a  lady  emerged 
from  the  back  office,  and  lingered  in  earnest  conversa 
tion  —  speaking  in  low  tones  —  with  Mr.  Larobe. 

"  I'll  manage  him  ;  never  fear,"  were  the  lawyer's 
last  assuring  words,  as  the  lady,  who  was  none  other 
than  Mrs.  Guy,  passed  into  the  street. 

Four  o'clock  came,  and  Mr.  Larobe  sat  alone  in  his 
office,  waiting  for  Adam  Guy.  But  the  young  man 


NOTHING    BUT    MONEY.  323 

did  not  make  his  appearance.  His  unwillingness  to  en 
counter  the  lawyer  kept  him  from  meeting  the  engage 
ment.  He  preferred  obtaining  the  information  he 
sought,  through  the  agency  of  his  step-mother. 

"  Did  you.  send  a  note  to  Mr.  Larobe  ?  "  he  asked,  on 
finding  an  opportunity  to  be  alone  with  Mrs.  Guy  in  the 
evening. 

"  I  did  not,"  was  coldly  answered. 

"  You  promised  to  do  so  ?  " 

Mrs.  Guy  shook  her  head,  at  the  same  time  that  she 
compressed  her  lips  firmly. 

"  You  certainly  did."     Adam  grew  a  little  warm. 

"  I  told  you  that  I  would  think  about  it ;  and  I  have 
done  so.  From  what  passed  between  us  last  night  and 
this  morning,  it  is  plain  that  certain  base  and  inhuman 
suspicions  in  regard  to  me  have  entered  your  mind  — 
suspicions  that  I  feel  as  outrages.  This  being  the  case, 
I  prefer  not  standing  between  you  and  Mr.  Larobe,  as 
the  medium  of  intelligence  touching  your  father.  Go 
to  him,  and  seek  the  information  you  desire." 

Mrs.  Guy  showed  unusual  feeling  for  a  woman  of  her 
cold  temperament,  and  great  self-command. 

Adam  was  not  prepared  for  this.  His  step-mother 
observed  him  closely ;  noting  the  effect  of  her  opening 
assault,  which  was  only  preparatory  of  one  of  greater 
violence. 

"  You  are  to  quick  to  imagine  the  supposition   ot 
wrong,"  he  said,  with  a  significant  curl  of  his  upper 
lip.    ' 

"  What  do  you  mean,  sir  ! "  demanded  Mrs.  Guy, 
with  a  fierceness  of  manner  that  startled  Adam.  He 


324  NOTHING    BUT    MONEY. 

had  never  seen  his  step-mother  so  moved  in  his  life  — 
never  felt  such  a  fear  of  her  as  suddenly  fell  upon  him. 

"  I  said,"  he  repeated,  but  with  not  half  the  firmness 
of  his  first  utterance,  "  that  you  were  quick  to  imagine 
the  supposition  of  wrong." 

"  I  am  quick  to  feel  the  sting  of  a  false  and  base  in 
sinuation,  sir! —  quick,  as  all  true  and  honorable  minds 
are,"  answered  Mrs.  Guy,  with  increasing  indignation 
of  manner.  "  And  I  tell  you,  sir,  that  you  have  gone 
just  one  step  too  far  in  a  series  of  long  continued  out 
rages  ;  and  from  this  hour,  I  shall  hold  you  at  a  dis 
tance.  If  you  choose  to  place  yourself  in  a  position  of 
antagonism,  well ;  you  have  a  right  to  the  election,  and 
also  to  the  fruits  thereof.  Consider  me  from  this  time 
your  enemy,  if  you  will.  I  shall  not  shrink  from  the 
relation,  depend  upon  it !  " 

Adam  had  in  him  too  much  of  his  father's  dogged 
self-will  to  dream  of  stooping  to  conciliation. 

"  As  you  like,"  he  simply  said.  Then  added,  with 
a  threat  in  his  voice,  "  The  law  is  just ;  and  I  shall  be 
of  age  in  two  months." 

A  gleam  of  cruel  triumph  lit  the  eyes  of  his  step 
mother  ;  and  she  answered,  in  a  hissing  whisper  — 

"Those  who  take  the  sword,  sometimes  perish  by 
the  sword.  Try  the  law,  and  abide  by  the  law." 

Both  parties  were  too  much  excited  to  continue 
that  wordy  contest,  as  each  felt ;  and  so  they  mutually 
retired  from  the  field.  The  quarrel  was  really  of  Mrs. 
Guy's  seeking,  though  apparently  brought  on  by  Adam  ; 
but  she  was  betraying  herself  a  little  too  far  under  the 
pressure  of  feeling,  and  was  glad  to  recede,  lest  some 
unwise  utterance  should  fall  from  her  lips. 


CHAPTER  XXXIV. 


AVING  precipitated  a  quarrel  with 
Adam,  it  was  no  part  of  his  step-mother's 
programme  to  let  the  fires  of  antagonism 
go  out  for  lack  of  fuel.  Oil  and  faggot 
were  always  at  hand,  and  furnished  with 
out  stint,  so  that  they  were  perpetually 
in  a  blaze.  It  ended  as  the  step-mother 
desired.  Adam  left  the  house  in  a  pas 
sion,  vowing  not  to  cross  the  threshold  again,  and  took 
lodgings  at  one  of  the  hotels.  This  occurred  in  a  week 
after  the  brief  interview  mentioned  as  having  taken 
place  between  Adam  and  Doctor  Hofland.  In  order  to 
make  this  separation  complete,  Mrs.  Guy  gathered  ev 
erything  belonging  to  the  young  man  —  clothing,  books 
and  other  articles  —  and  sent  them  to  his  address  at  the 
hotel,  accompanied  by  a  note  couched  in  language  that 
left  him  in  no  doubt  of  her  purpose  to  hold  him  forever 
at  a  distance.  He  had  turned  from  the  door  of  his  fath 
er's  house,  and  now  it  was  closed  against  him.  He 
was  out  in  the  world  alone,  friendless  and  almost  pow 
erless.  As  he  sat,  in  the  small  room  at  the  hotel  —  so 
mean  and  poor  compared  with  the  one  he  left  —  sat 
there  on  the  first  night  of  his  voluntary  exile,  and 
looked  into  the  dark,  mysterious  future,  his  heart  shiv- 


326  NOTHING    BUT    MONEY. 

ered,  —  his  spirit  grew  faint  and  fearful.  He  realized 
more  consciously  than  ever,  that  his  step-mother  was  too 
strong  and  subtle  for  him,  —  that  in  her  hands,  he  was 
weak  as  an  infant. 

As  Adam  sat  thus,  alone,  looking  with  dismay  at  the 
prospect  before  him,  Mr.  Larobe  and  his  step-mother 
were  in  close  conference. 

"  You  say,"  remarked  Mrs.  Guy,  "  that  he  has  nev 
er  called  on  you  to  ask  the  direction  of  the  Asylum." 

"  I  have  not  seen  him,"  answered  the  lawyer. 

"  Just  as  I  supposed  it  would  be.  Not  a  spark  of 
filial  love  burns  in  one  of  their  souls.  I  never  saw  such 
a  heartless  brood.  If  they  had  their  father's  money,  he 
might  be  at  the  bottom  of  the  ocean  for  all  they  cared." 

"  You  think  that  Adam  will  not  return  here  ?  "  said 
Mr.  Larobe. 

"  He  can't  return."  Mrs.  Guy's  voice  was  soft  and 
low,  but  it  expressed  the  purpose  of  an  iron  will. 

"  I  received  a  letter  from  Doctor  Du  Pontz  to-day," 
remarked  the  lawyer. 

"  Well  !     What  does  he  write  ?  "     The  manner  of 
Mrs.   Guy  changed  instantly,  and  she  leaned  towards 
her  companion  with  an  expression  of  hope  on  her  coun 
tenance. 

"  The  Doctor  wishes  to  see  me,  immediately." 

"  Ah  !     For  what  purpose  ?  " 

"  Here  is  his  letter."  And  Mr.  Larobe  read,  —  "I 
wish  to  see  you  at  once,  about  Mr.  Guy.  His  condition 
is  less  favorable  than  when  I  last  wrote.  Closer  con 
finement,  I  fear,  will  be  necessary  ;  but,  ere  making  a 
change,  I  think  it  best  to  ask  an  interview.  Come  with 
as  little  delay  as  possible." 


NOTHING    BUT    MONEY.  327 

"  Is  that  all  he  says  ?  "  asked  Mrs.  Guy,  taking  a  long 
breath. 

"All."  And  Larobe  handed  her  the  letter,  which 
she  scanned  closely. 

Then  they  looked  at  each  other,  silently,  for  some 
moments. 

"  When  will  you  go  ?  " 

"  To-morrow.  The  case,  as  you  see,  admits  of  no 
delay." 

"  The  Doctor  writes  with  consummate  prudence," 
said  Mrs.  Guy. 

"  He  understands  his  business,"  replied  the  lawyer, 
with  an  expression  of  face  that  would  have  made  inno 
cence  shudder. 

On  the  evening  of  the  third  day  following  this  inter 
view,  Mr.  Larobe  and  Mrs.  Guy  met  again. 

"  When  did  you  arrive  ?  "  was  the  first,  and  natural 
question. 

"  Two  hours  ago." 

"  How  is  my  husband  ?  " 

"  That  will  inform  you."  And'  Mr.  Larobe  handed 
a  letter  from  Doctor  Du  Pontz.  Hastily  opening  it, 
Mrs.  Guy  read  — 

DEAR  MADAM  —  I  regret  to  inform  you,  that,  within 
the  last  two  weeks,  all  the  symptoms  in  your  honored 
husband's  case  have  assumed  more  discouraging  features. 
Mr.  Larobe  has  visited  him  at  my  desire  ;  and  we  agree, 
in  the  conclusion,  that  his  safety  will  require  a  still 
greater  restriction  of  liberty.  The  few  gleams  of  in 
telligence  which,  lighting  up  now  and  then,  gave  us  so 


328  NOTHING    BUT    MONEY. 

much  hope,  seem  to  have  died  away  forever,  and  left 
his  mind  in  total  darkness.  It  is  exceedingly  painful, 
my  dear  madam,  to  write  in  so  disheartening  a  way  of 
your  excellent  husband ;  but  my  duty  is  to  state  the 
case  exactly.  Have  no  fear  that  any  harsh  means  will 
be  adopted.  These  are  not  in  my  system.  He  shall  be 
tenderly  cared  for,  and  permitted  all  the  freedom  con 
sistent  with  safety.  Very  truly, 

ALEXIS  Du  PONTZ,  M.  D." 

"  You  saw  him  ?  "  There  was  a  look  of  inexpress- 
able  anxiety  on  the  countenance  of  Mrs.  Guy. 

"  Yes." 

"  He  knew  you  ?  " 

"  Of  course." 

"  What  did  he  say  ?  " 

"  He  was  violent  —  demanded  a  release  —  and  threat 
ened  all  manner  of  consequences." 

Mrs.  Guy's  face  grew  pale. 

"  What  did  you  say  ?  " 

"  Nothing.  It  is  not  my  custom  to  waste  words  on 
an  insane  man." 

Larobe  continued  cool  and  self-possessed,  but  Mrs.  Guy 
was  nervous,  and  vaguely  alarmed. 

"  Is  there  no  danger  of  his  escape  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  He  made  several  attempts  recently,"  replied  Larobe, 
"  but  the  Doctor  has  now  put  him  in  such  close  confine 
ment,  that  no  apprehension  need'  be  entertained." 

"  I  tremble  at  the  bare  imagination  of  such  a  thing," 
said  Mrs.  Guy,  the  paleness  of  her  face  remaining. 

"  You  may  fully  depend  on  Doctor  Du  Pontz,"  were 


NOTHING    BUT    MONEY.  329 

Larobe's  assuring  words.  "  I  have  studied  the  man, 
and  know  him.  Mr.  Guy  is  safe." 

"  Adam  will  be  of  age  in  a  few  weeks."  Mrs.  Guy- 
still  spoke  with  manifest  concern. 

"  Trust  him  with  me,  my  dear  madam.  I  understand 
his  relation  to  the  estate,  and  will  take  care  that  no  dis 
turbance  of  our  plans  originate  with  him."  Thus  the 
lawyer  spoke  in  reassuring  words. 

"  He  will  visit  his  father,"  said  Mrs.  Guy. 

Larobe  merely  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

«/  OO 

"  And  see  him  "  — 

"  No  ;  that  does  not  follow," 

"  Doctor  Du  Pont/  will  hardly  deny  the  son  an  inter 
view.      Were  he  to  do  so,  suspicion  would  be  aroused, 
and  legal  steps  follow." 

The  lawyer  bent  close  to  the  ear  of  Mrs.  Guy,  and 
whispered  a  brief  sentence. 

"  Ah  !  I  never  thought  of  that !  "  she  answered, 
light  breaking  into  her  face. 

"  Leave  all  with  the  Doctor,"  said  Larobe.  u  He 
understands  the  case  just  as  well  as  you' or  I,  and  will 
see  that  all  things  work  to  the  good  result  we  have  in 
view." 

Thus  assured,  the  heart  of  Mrs.  Guy  took  courage 
again. 

Sooner  than  expected  by  Mrs.  Guy,  Adam's  resolu 
tion  to  visit  his  father  assumed  the  form  of  a  present 
purpose.  He  called  on  Mr.  Larobe  within  a  few  days 
after  his  separation  from  his  step-mother,  and  asked  for 
such  information  in  regard  to  the  Woodville  Asylum  as 
would  enable  him  to  find  his  way  there  by  the  directest 


NOTHING    BUT    MONEY. 

course.  Mr.  Larobe  treated  him  politely  —  even  kind 
ly —  and  not  only  gave  him  the  information  he  sought, 
but  also  an  open  letter  to  Dr.  Du  Pontz,  introducing 
him  as  the  son  of  Mr.  Guy,  who  wished  to  visit  his 
father. 

Adam  left  immediately  for  New  York,  and  in  an  hour 
after  his  arrival  was  on  his  way  to  Staten"  Island.  On 
reaching  the  landing,  he  hired  a  conveyance,  according 
to  the  direction  received  from  Mr.  Larobe,  and  started 
for  the  Woodville  Asylum,  which  was  yet  ten  or  twelve 
miles  distant.  A  ride  of  two  hours  brought  him  in  view 
of  Doctor  Du  Pontz's  establishment.  Instead  of  a 
large  and  imposing  modern  edifice,  as  Adam  had  pictur 
ed  it  to  himself,  he  found  the  Woodville  Asylum  to  con 
sist  of  an  old-fashioned,  two  storied  brick  house,  with 
high  pitched  roof  and  dormer  windows,  built,  evidently, 
in  the  first  years  of  the  century  by  a  well-conditioned 
farmer,  or  gentleman  of  wealth  having  rural  tastes. 
The  space  covered  by  the  main  building  and  attach 
ments  was  large;  and  the  ground  covered  with  fine  old 
trees. 

A  chill  crept  along  Adam's  nerves  as  he  passed  from 
the  avenue  leading  up  to  the  house,  and  entered  the 
grounds  more  immediately  surrounding  it.  The  old 
gate  awry  on  the  decaying  posts,  from  which  the  paint 
had  disappeared  years  before.  The  heavy  box  borders 
were  ragged,  broken,  and  untrimed  ;  and  the  shrubbery, 
of  which  there  was  considerable,  showed  only  partial  and 
unskilled  care.  But,  the  walks  were  in  good  condition, 
and  clean.  A  dead  silence  dwelt  in  the  air  —  so  dead, 
that  to  every  footfall  of  the  young  man,  an  echo  was 
stirred,  and  came  distinctly  to  his  sense  of  hearing. 


NOTHING    BUT    MONEY.  331 

As  Adam  ascended  the  steps  leading  to  the  door,  he 
was  met  by  a  short,  stout  man,  over  fifty  years  of  age, 
with  a  heavy  black  and  grey  beard,  and  a  sallow  coun 
tenance. 

"  Can  I  see  Doctor  Du  Pontz  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  That  is  my  name,"  replied  the  short,  stout  man,  with 
a  slight  French  accent ;  bowing  and  smiling.  "  Walk 
in."  And  he  moved  back,  giving  way  for  Adam  to 
enter. 

The  hall  was  spacious,  having  a  broad  stairway  in  the 
center.  Doors  opened  into  rooms  on  either  side.  From 
the  hall  Doctor  Du  Pontz  conducted  his  visitor  to  a 
small  apartment,  evidently  used  as  his  private  office,  as 
it  contained  books,  papers,  medicine  cases,  and  profes 
sional  apparatus.  On  entering,  Adam  gave  the  Doctor 
his  letter  of  introduction. 

"  Oh  ;  Mr.  Guy,"  said  the  Doctor,  cordially,  yet  in 
a  tone  of  sympathy,  extending  his  hand  and  grasping 
that  of  Adam.  "  I'm  gratified  to  receive  a  visit  from 
you  ;  though  pained,  of  course,  in  view  of  the  occasion." 

"  How  is  my  father  ?  "  asked  Adam,  passing  at  once 
to  the  subject  that  was  first  in  his  thoughts. 

The  Doctor's  face  became  serious. 

"•  The  case,  I  regret  to  say,  is  not  as  hopeful  as  could 
be  desired." 

"Can  I  see  him  ?" 

"  O,  yes."  There  was  not  a  sign  of  hesitation. 
"  But  you  must  prepare  yourself  for  a  great  change  in 
his  appearance.  When  mind  gives  way  at  the  fearful 
rate  witnessed  in  your  father's  case,  bodily  changes 
equally  important,  almost  always  attend  the  disaster. 
You  will  look  upon  a  sadly  altered  man." 


332  NOTHING    BUT    MONEY. 

There  was  a  tone  of  pity  and  sympathy  in  the  Doc 
tor's  voice,  that  won  a  little  on  the  confidence  of  Adam, 
and  softened  the  unfavorable  impression  at  first  made. 

"  Do  you  think  my  father's  case  hopeless  ?  "  Adam's 
voice  was  husky  and  choked. 

The  Doctor  gave  a  shrug,  and  arched  his  heavy  eye 
brows.  Then,  as  his  countenance  fell  back  to  its  grave 
seriousness,  he  answered, 

"  Hopeless,  I  fear." 

Adam  caught  his  breath.     The  Doctor  showed  con- 

~ 

siderable  feeling,  and  spoke  kindly  and  sympathizingly. 
"  Wait  here  for  a  little  while,"  he  said,  after  convers 
ing  a  short  time  with  the  young  man  ;  and  Adam  was 
left  alone.  In  the  ten  minutes  that  passed  before  the 
Doctor's  return,  he  did  not  observe  with  much  care 
what  was  around  him,  for  his  mind  was  absorbed  in  the 
coming;  interview. 

O 

"  Come,"  said  Doctor  Du  Pontz,  appearing  at  the 
door. 

Adam  arose  and  followed.  So  suddenly  did  the  blood 
now  flow  back  upon  his  heart,  that  it  labored,  half 
suffused,  and  felt  like  one  on  the  eve  of  suffocation. 
All  his  soul  shrunk  from  the  meeting  with  his  father 
about  to  occur.  But  it  was  too  late  to  recede. 

"  Will  he  know  me?  "  the  young  man  found  voice  to 
inquire,  in  a  suppressed  whisper,  as  they  paused  before 
entering  a  room  on  the  second  floor  of  one  of  the  addi 
tions  which  had  been  made  to  the  main  building — an 
addition  not  seen  in  approaching  the  house. 

"  I  cannot  say,"  replied  the  Doctor.  "He  is  not 
much  inclined  to  notice  any  one.  But,  he  may  remem 
ber  you." 


NOTHING    BUT    MONEY. 

And  the  Doctor  turned  the  key,  that  was  in  the  lock 
on  the  outside  of  the  door,  and  pushing  it  gently  open, 
passed  in,  followed  by  Adam. 

Sitting  near  the  window  was  a  man,  to  all  appearance, 
sixty  years  of  age,  his  face  covered  with  a  short,  grizzly 
beard.  He  did  not  stir,  nor  seem  in  any  way  surprised 
or  disconcerted  by  the  intrusion  ;  but  fixed  his  wild 
looking  eyes  intently  on  Adam,  who,  recognizing  scarce 
ly  a  feature,  advanced  quickly,  and  holding  out  his  hand, 
pronounced  the  word  "  Father !  "  in  an  eager  tone. 

The  man  started,  and  bending  towards  Adam,  who 
had  already  grasped  his  hand,  looked  at  him  curiously, 
yet  m/evident  doubt. 

"  I  am  Adam,  father ;  your  son  Adam,"  said  the 
young  man,  with  much  tenderness  and  feeling. 

"  Adam  ?  Adam  ?  My  son  Adam  ?  I  thought  he 
died  a  long  while  ago."  The  man  looked  doubtfully  at 
Adam,  and  then  in  a  mute  questioning  way  from  him  to 
the  Doctor. 

"  0,  no,"  said  Doctor  Du  Pontz,  falling  in  with  his 
humor,  "  that  was  a  mistake.  He  didn't  die.  He  was 
dangerously  sick  for  a  long  time,  and  word  came  that 
his  illness  had  terminated  fatally.  But,  you'll  remem 
ber  I  told  you  last  week,  that  this  was  true,  and  that  he 
would  be  here  in  a  few  days." 

"  He  looks  like  my  boy."  And  a  light  shone  in  the 
vacant  face,  as  this  was  said. 

"  I  am  your  boy,  your  own  boy,  father  !  "  Adam's 
voice  shook,  and  his  eyes  were  blinded  with  tears. 

"  Are  you  indeed  ?  Well,  I  couldn't  have  believed 
it.  They  say  the  dead  come  to  life  again,  sometimes." 


334  NOTHING  BUT  MONEY. 

And  the  poor  old  man  smoothed,  with  both  of  his  hands, 
the  temples  and  face  of  Adam,  along  whose  nerves  the 
cold,  unearthly  touches  sent  a  shudder. 

"  Can't  I  go  home  with  you,  my  son  ?  "  he  asked,  in 
a  plaintive,  pleading  voice.  "  I  don't  like  to  stay  here. 
I  want  to  go  home." 

"•  Why  don't  you  like  to  stay  here  ?  "  asked  Adam. 

Instead  of  answering,  the  old  man  threw  a  half  fear 
ful  look  at  Doctor  Du  Pontz.  Adam  turned  quickly, 
and  saw  an  intimidating  glance  in  the  Doctor's  eyes. 

"  Why  don't  you  like  to  stay  ?  "  Doctor  Du  Pontz  re 
peated  Adam's  question,  and  in  a  tone  that,  to  all  ap 
pearance,  invited  confidence. 

But,  no  answer  was  returned.  That  one  glance  from 
the  Doctor  seemed  to  have  touched  him  like  a  spell. 
His  face  lost  all  signs  of  intelligence  or  feeling.  He  re 
ceded  from  an  awakened  state  of  dim,  hopeful  conscious 
ness,  to  the  gloomy  caverns  where  his  soul  had  been 
dwelling.  Fruitless  were  Adam's  efforts  to  call  him 
back  again.  Voice  and  words  failed  to  penetrate  the  re 
gion  of  conscious  life.  He  sat,  still  as  a  statue,  with  an 
unchanging  countenance,  and  eyes  that  never,  for  an  in 
stant,  lifted  themselves  from  the  floor. 

"I  am  going,  father,"  said  Adam,  after  exhausting 
all  the  means  of  gaining  attention  that  were  suggested 
to  his  mind. 

No  response  was  made.  Adam  partly  turned,  and 
moved  a  step  or  two  in  the  direction  of  the  door  ;  then 
stopped  and  waited  ;  but  there  was  no  recognition  of  the 
movement. 

"  Good-by,  father !  "     Adam's  voice  trembled.     He 


NOTHING    BUT    MONEY.  335 

came  back  a  few  paces,  and  held  out  his  hand.  "  Good- 
by,  father,"  he  repeated.  But,  the  form  before  him  re 
mained  immovable.  He  stooped,  and  lifting  one  of 
the  impassive  hands,  said  — 

"  I'm  going  now  father." 

The  touch  aroused  the  old  man.  Springing  to  his 
feet,  he  caught  the  shoulder  of  Adam  with  a  strong  grip, 
and  holding  him  off  at  arm's  length,  glared  wildly  into 
his  face.  Instantly  Doctor  Du  Pontz  was  between  them, 
and,  by  the  exertion  of  great  strength,  broke  away  the 
hold  on  Adam,  and  pressing  back  the  now  foaming  and 
raving  maniac,  called,  in  a  quick,  warning  voice  for  the 
young  man  to  leave  the  room  instantly,  an  injunction 
which  he  did  not  fail  to  obey.  On  the  outside  of  the 
door  Adam  stood,  all  in  a  tremor,  listening  to  the  strug 
gle  that  still  went  on,  and  which  continued  for  nearly  a 
minute.  Then  the  clanking  of  a  chain  chilled  his  blood, 
and  with  a  sickening  heart  he  made  his  way  to  the  of 
fice  in  which  he  had  been  at  first  received,  there  to 
await  the  Doctor's  return. 

Soon  Doctor  Du  Pontz  joined  him,  his  dress  in  con 
siderable  disorder,  and  his  sallow  face  flushed. 

"  Poor  man  !  You  see  how  sad  the  case  is.  Mind 
nearly  gone."  The  Doctor  spoke  in  a  tone  of  pity. 

"Are  such  dreadful  paroxysms  frequent?"  asked 
Adam. 

"  No.  If  all  causes  of  excitement  are  avoided,  he  re 
mains  calm  and  indifferent,"  replied  the  Doctor. 

"  He  knew  me,"  said  Adam. 

"  There  was,  certainly,  a  partial  recognition,  and  the 
disturbance  which  followed  was  a  consequence.  We 


336  NOTHING    BUT    MONEY. 

are  obliged  to  keep  all  exciting  influences  as  far  away  as 
possible." 

"  Do  you  see  any  improvement,  taking  his  condition 
now,  and  comparing  it  with  his  condition  one,  two  or 
three  months  back?  "  inquired  Adam. 

The  Doctor  shook  his  head. 

"  Is  there  any  change  ?  " 

"  I  think  so." 

"  Unfavorable  ?  " 

«  Yes." 

Adam  sighed  heavily,  and  remained  silent. 

"  It  pains  me,"  said  Doctor  Du  Pontz,  "  to  be  obliged 
to  speak  with  so  little  encouragement ;  but  truth  com 
pels  me  to  affirm,  that  I  see  little  in  your  father's  case 
to  inspire  hope.  But,  of  one  thing  you  may  be  assured, 
while  in  this  establishment,  he  will  receive  the  kindest 
care,  and  the  best  moral  discipline  his  case  demands. 
Time,  and  a  wise  patience,  may  bring  salutary  results. 
As  in  diseases  of  the  body,  so  we  say  in  diseases  of  the 
mind,  while  there  is  life  there  is  hope." 

Adam  went  back  from  Woodville,  sadder  than  when 
he  came,  and  with  a  darker  cloud  resting  on  all  his  fu 
ture.  He  felt  a  sense  of  weakness  creeping  into  his  soul, 
as  if  forces,  impossible  to  be  conquered,  were  arraying 
themselves  against  him.  Between  his  step-mother  and 
Mr.  Larobe,  evidently  existed  a  league  ;  and  there  was 
little  doubt  in  Adam's  mind  as  to  the  object.  But, 
what  could  he  do  to  thwart  the  evil  purpose  they  had, 
as  he  believed,  in  view  ?  Nothing,  certainly,  until  he 
attained  his  majority. 

"  A  few  weeks  more,  and  then  !  "     So  Adam  said  to 


NOTHING    BUT    MONEY. 


himself,  many  times,  as  he  journeyed  back.  "  A  few 
weeks,  and  then  this  guardianship,  so  far  as  I  am  con 
cerned,  must  cease." 

But  what  then  ?  The  answers  were  far  from  clear. 
He  would  take  counsel,  and  demand  a  legal  adjustment 
of  his  relation  to  his  father's  estate.  The  law  would 
put  him  right !  But  Adam  did  not  know  the  law. 


15 


CHAPTER  XXXV. 


few  weeks  —  and  they  had  nearly  ex 
pired.  In  ten  days,  Adam  Guy  would 
ke  twenty-one.  He  had  already  taken 

TIT-  i  • 

legal  achnce,  and  was  preparing  to  put 
his  step-mother  and  Mr.  Larobe  on 
the  defensive  in  regard  to  his  father's 
estate.  On  the  very  day  of  reaching 
his  majority,  a  note  from  his  counsel 
was  to  signify  his  will  in  the  case.  All 
the  assurances  he  received  were  of  the  most  emphatic 
character.  He  was  told  that  the  Orphan's  Court  would 
order  a  division  to  him  of  so  much  of  his  father's  prop 
erty  as,  in  heirship,  he  was  entitled  to  receive.  Beyond 
that,  he  had  no  concern.  If  his  brother's  and  sister's 
portions  were  alienated  or  squandered,  under  the  guar 
dianship,  it  was  of  little  concern  to  Adam.  He  was 
for  himself,  and  for  no  one  else.  Already  he  stood  sep 
arated  from  them  ;  and  after  getting  his  share  of  his 
father's  property,  he  meant  that  the  alienation  should 
be  complete.  They  must  not  become  clogs  or  hindran 
ces  to  him  on  his  way  upward  ! 

Such  were  Adam's  thoughts  and  conclusions  as  he 
sat  alone  in  his  room  just  ten  days  before  the  limitations 
of  miuorship  were  to  be  removed.  There  was  a  knock 
at  his  door. 


NOTHING    BUT    MONEY.  339 

"  Come  in." 

A  servant  entered  and  handed  the  young  man  a  card. 
It  bore  the  name  of  JUSTIN  LAROBE. 

"  Show  him  up,"  said  Adam. 

A  few  minutes  were  passed  in  wondering  suspense, 
not  untouched  by  anxiety. 

"  What  does  he  want  ?  "  more  than  once  found  an 
almost  audible  utterance. 

Hastening  feet  were  soon  heard,  and  then  as  the  door 
swung  open  again,  Adam  arose  quickly,  with  a  half  utter 
ed  exclamation  on  his  lips,  and  a  look  of  alarm  on  his  face. 
Larobe  confronted  him  with  a  pale,  agitated  counten 
ance. 

"  Oh,  Adam  !  "  exclaimed  the  lawyer,  speaking  in  a 
tone  of  anguish.  "  Such  a  dreadful  thing  has  happen 
ed  ! " 

"  What  ?  "  asked  the  young  man,  with  a  look  of  ter 
ror. 

"  Your  father." 

"  What  of  him,  Mr.  Larote  ?  " 

"  Is  dead  !  " 

"  Dead  ?     Dead  !  " 

Mr.  Larobe's  hand  shook  as  he  drew  a  letter  from  his 
pocket  and  handed  it  to  Adam.  It  was  from  Doctor 
Du  Pontz,  briefly  conveying  information  that  Mr.  Guy 
had  escaped  from  his  room  in  the  night  and  fallen  from 
a  window.  In  the  morning  he  was  found,  lying  on  his 
face,  which  was  cut  and  bruised  by  the  fall,  dead  and 
stiff  —  life  having  been  extinct  for  some  hours. 

O 

"  My  poor  father  !  "  sobbed  Adam,  hiding  his  face 
with  his  hands,  as  some  waves  of  natural  emotion 


340  NOTHING    BUT   MONEY. 

swept  over  his  heart.  A  short  space  of  time  the 
lawyer  stood  silent,  until  the  first  outburst  of  feeling 
had  subsided.  Then  he  said, 

"  I  have  not  yet  seen  your  mother  ;  and  dread  being 
the  medium  of  such  horrible  news.  How  shall  I  break 
to  her  this  appalling  intelligence  ?  Will  you  go  with 
me?" 

But  Adam  shook  his  head. 

"  Then  I  must  see  her  alone,"  said  Mr.  Larobe,  with 
visibly  regained  composure  of  mind.  "  The  body  must 
of  course  be -brought  home.  I  will  make  such  arrange- 

o  o 

ments  here  as  the  case  requires,  and  then  go  on  in  the 
evening  train  and  reach  Woodville  to-morrow.  In  the 
mean  time,  go  to  your  mother,  and  give  her  all  the  con 
solation  in  your  power.  Let  this  sad  event  obliterate 
all  unkindness.  I  will  write  a  few  lines  to  Edwin  and 
Lydia. 

The  paleness  and  agitation  had  already  departed  from 
the  lawyers  face.  He  was  composed  and  business-like 
in  his  manner. 

Adam  was  too  much  stunned  by  the  intelligence  of 
his  father's  death  to  offer  any  reply,  and  Mr.  Larobe, 
having  discharged  his  duty  in  making  the  announce 
ment,  hurried  away  to  the  step-mother's  residence, 
whither  Adam  followed  in  the  course  of  an  hour.  Mrs. 
Guy  was  overwhelmed  by  the  dreadful  intelligence, 
Adam  found  her  bathed  in  tears,  and  overflowing  with 
griefs  most  eloquent  language.  She  blamed  herself  for 
bavins;  ever  consented  to  the  removal  of  her  husband  tc 

c5 

an  Asylum. 

"  I  could  have  guarded  him  with  sleepless  watchful 


NOTHING    BUT    MONEY. 


341 


ness,"  she  said,  "  and  so  prevented  this  terrible  calam- 

ity." 

But,  the  son  was  not  deceived.  In  acting  a  part, 
Mrs.  Guy,  like  most  actors,  gave  the  lie  to  nature. 
Adam  looked  on  in  silence,  contempt,  and  suspicion. 

After  a  brief  interview  with  his  step-mother,  who 
soon  regained  her  usual  calm  exterior,  Adam  retired 
from  the  house  and  went  to  the  office  of  his  lawyer  in 
order  to  state  the  fact  of  his  father's  death.  Sorrow 
made  no  part  of  the  concern  that  now  weighed  upon 
his  mind. 

"  Is  there  a  will  ?  "  was  the  lawyer's  first  inquiry. 

Adam  could  not  answer  the  question. 

"  All  depends  on  that.  If  there  is  a  will,  legally  ex 
ecuted,  its  provisions  bind  the  estate  ;  if  there  is  no  will, 
the  law  of  inheritance  comes  in  to  divide  the  property. 
We  must  wait  and  see.  Your  father  was  too  careful 
and  systematic  a  man  to  neglect  so  important  a  thing 
as  his  will." 

Anxious  and  impatient  for  the  time  when  all  suspense 
would  be  removed,  Adam  passed  the  next  few  days  in  a 
state  of  restless  uncertainty.  Mr.  Larobe  returned,  in 
due  course,  with  the  body,  preserved  in  ice ;  but  the 
face  was  so  blackened  and  disfigured  that  not  a  feature 
was  recognizable.  By  previous  arrangement,  the  fune 
ral  took  place  on  the  day  following.  Of  the  severed  and 
alienated  house-hold,  all  were  present  but  John,  who  was 
still  at  sea.  Lydia  was  scarcely  recognized  by  Adam  or 
her  step-mother.  No  one  spoke  to,  or  noticed  her  hus 
band,  after  the  first  cold  introduction.  Although  Lydia 
arrived  on  the  day  previous  to  that  designated  for  the 


342  NOTHING    BUT    MONEY. 

funeral,  she  was  not  invited  to  remain,  and  after  sitting 
for  an  hour  or  two  in  the  heart-chilling  atmosphere  of 
her  old  home,  retired  with  her  husband. 

There  were  but  few  in  attendance  on  the  next  day  ; 
and  of  sincere  mourners,  perhaps  not  one.  No  hearts  — 
not  even  those  of  Mr.  Guy's  children  —  garnered  sweet 
memories  of  the  departed,  or  wept  for  a  loss  felt  to  be 
irreparable.  The  earth,  as  it  fell  heavily  on  that  coffin 
lid,  was  not  heaped  on  one  whose  spirit  had  linked  it 
self  with  human  loves  and  human  sympathies ;  and  no 
broken  bonds  or  rent  tendrils  bled  or  quivered  in  next 
to  mortal  anguish  with  the  pain  of  separation.  Tearless 
eyes  had  looked  upon  the  coffin  as  it  descended  from 
view,  and  tearless  eyes  turned  from  the  spot  where  it 
disappeared  —  a  spot  unconsecrated  by  sorrow,  and  nev 
er  to  be  visited  with  any  loving  interest. 

Is  the  life  worth  living,  that  closes  in  such  a  death 
and  burial  ?  And  the  beyond  ?  Thought  comes  back, 
shuddering,  from  the  beyond,  and  we  ask,  "  What  is 
the  man's  state  now  ?  " 

One  act  more.  Word  was  passed,  quietly,  to  Adam 
and  Lydia,  that,  immediately  after  the  funeral  ceremo 
nies,  their  father's  will,  found  among  his  papers,  wouid 
be  read.  This  was  the  first  advice  received  by  them 
touching  the  existence  of  a  will.  They,  therefore,  re 
turned  to  the  house,  and  met  the  assembled  family. 
Mr.  Larobe  was  in  attendance,  sitting  at  a  table  in  one 
of  the  parlors,  with  the  will  lying  before  him.  Formal 
ly  he  broke  the  seal,  in  presence  .of  all,  and  in  the  death 
like  stillness  that  followed,  read  the  document  in  a  calm, 
distinct  voice.  -.-...  , 

After  the  usual  brief  preliminary  matter,  the  children 


NOTHING    BUT    MONEY.  843 

of  the  testator  were  named  in  order,  with  the  sum  each 
was  to  receive  from  the  estate.  Adam's  share  was  twen 
ty  thousand  dollars.  John's  ten  thousand  ;  but  this 
was  in  trust;  he  to  receive  only  the  annually  accruing 
interest .  At  his  death,  the  principal  would  pass  to 
the  residuary  legatee.  Lydia  was  next  mentioned. 
Her  portion  was  only  one  thousand  dollars !  Edwin 
and  Francis  were  to  receive  ten  thousand  each,  and  a 
like  sum  was  willed  to  each  of  Mr.  Guy's  three  children 
by  his  second  wife.  All  the  residue  of  the  estate,  real 
and  personal,  was  bequeathed  to  his  "  loving  wife,  Jane," 
who,  jointly  with  Justin  Larobe,  were  constituted  guar 
dians  to  the  children  not  yet  of  legal  age.  Larobe  was 
named  as  executor  to  the  estate. 

No  sentence  of  approval  or  blame  appeared  any  where 
in  the  carefully  worded,  and  strictly  legal  document, 
nor  were  any  reasons  for  a  bequest  given.  The  only 
apparent  sign  of  human  feeling,  was  in  the  words  "  my 
loving  wife,  Jane." 

Several  minutes  passed,  after  the  lawyer  had  finished, 
before  the  succeeding  silence  was  broken.  The  first 
movement  was  on  the  part  of  Lydia  and  her  husband, 
who  arose,  and  retired  from  the  house,  without  the 
utterance  of  a  word.  Adam  next  withdrew,  and  in  si 
lence,  also  departing  from  the  house.  Edwin  sat  for  a 
little  while  stunned  to  bewilderment  by  the  announce 
ment  of  his  small  share  in  an  estate  which  he  had  com 
placently  estimated  at  the  value  of  several  hundreds 
of  thousands  of  dollars,  and  then  retired  also,  going  up 
to  his  room,  for  he  yet  claimed  some  right  to  a  place  in 
his  father's  house. 


344 


NOTHING    BUT    MONEY. 


Adam's  steps  were  directed  to  the  office  of  his  counsel 
and  he  went  thither  with  hurrying  feet. 

"  There  is  a  will !  "  he  said,  with  strong  excitement 
in  his  manner  on  entering. 

"  Has  it  been  read  ?  " 

"Yes." 

*'  What  are  the  provisions  ?  " 

"  Oh,  horrible !  Scandalous !  That  woman  gets 
nearly  the  whole  of  my  father's  large  property.  I  shall 
contest  the  will." 

"  What  is  the  date  ?  " 

"  I  didn't  observe,"  said  Adam. 

"  That  is  important.  If  executed  since  the  aberration 
of  mind  which  preceded  his  death,  it  can  be  set  aside. 
As  soon  as  we  have  the  prooate,  I  will  look  to  tlie  date. 
But,  what  is  your  share  under  this  will  ?  " 

"  Twenty  thousand  dollars."  Adam  tossed  his  head 
in  contempt  of  the  paltry  sum. 

"  And  what  of  the  other  children  ?  " 

"  Only  ten  thousand  each,  except  in  the  case  of  my 
sister  Lydia,  who  threw  herself  away  in  a  beggarly 
marriage.  She  is  cut  off  with  a  single  thousand." 

"  How  much  do  these  sums  amount  to  in  the  aggre 
gate  ?  "  inquired  the  lawyer. 

"  Six,  at  ten  thousand  each,  make  sixty  thousand  dol 
lars.  My  portion  of  twenty  thousand,  and  Lydia's  por 
tion  of  one  thousand,  added,  would  make  the  sum  of 
eighty-one  thousand  dollars." 

"  How  large  is  the  estate  ?  " 

"  Roughly  estimated,  say  two  hundred  and  fifty  thous 
and  dollars." 


NOTHING    BUT    MONEY.  345 

"  Of  which  your  mother  comes  in  for  nearly  one 
hundred  and  twenty  thousand." 

"  Yes  —  she  a  mere  interloper  —  a  woman  who  only 
married  my  father  for  his  money  —  she  to  get  the  lion's 
share  !  My  blood  boils  in  my  veins  !  " 

"  Let  us  see  how  the  case  stands,  should  this  will  te 
defective,"  said  the  lawyer.  "  Your  mother's  one-third 
of  the  whole  estate,  valued,  we  will  assume,  at  two 
hundred  and  fifty  thousand  dollars,  would  be  something 
over  eighty-three  thousand.  There  would  remain,  say 
one  hundred  and  sixty-six  thousand  dollars,  to  be  divided 
among  —  how  many  children  ?  " 

"  Eight,"  replied  Adam. 

"  Eight  into  one  hundred  and  sixty-six,  a  little  over 
twenty  times.  I  don't  see  that'you  would  be  any  better 
off,  Mr  Guy  — you,  individually,  I  mean.'' 

Adam's  countenance  fell. 

"As  the  will  now  stands,  ynu  are  to  receive  all  the  law 
would  give,  had  your  father  died  intestate.  The  hard 
features  of  the  case  lie  with  your  brothers  and  sisters." 

"I  see  —  I  see."  Adam's  face  had  grown  deadly 
pale.  Only  twenty  thousand  dollars  as  his  share  in  an 
estate,  of  which  already  greedy  eyes  had  appropriated 
more  than  one  half.  Just  how  this  appropriation  was  to 
be  made,  had  not  been  settled  in  the  young  man's  mind  ; 
but,  he  had  cherished  a  vague  impression,  that,  after 
attaining  his  majority,  the  estate  would  come  under  his 
control,  and  be  left  almost  entirely  to  his  management. 
In  that  event,  no  delicate  scruples  as  to  others'  rights, 
when  set  against  his  strong  love  of  money,  would  hinder 
the  execution  of  his  will.  Justice,  humanity,  integrity, 
15* 


846  NOTHING  BUT  MONEY. 

except  as  safe  virtues,  were  not  involved  in  his  rules  of 
action. 

"  The  rights  of  your  brothers  and  sisters  are  to  be 
considered,"  the  lawyer  said.  "As  the  will  now  stands, 
they  will  only  receive  sixty-one  thousand  dollars.  If 
broken,  one  hundred  and  forty  thousand  will  be  divided 
between  them." 

"  But  /  will  get  no  more !  "  said  Adam,  sternly. 

"  You  will  get  no  more,"  replied  the  lawyer. 

"  Then  I  shall  not  move  a  finger  in  the  case.  Stand 
the  brunt,  and  expense,  and  delay  of  a  law-suit,  with  no 
prospect  of  a  dollar's  advantage  ?  Adam  Guy  is  not  so 
great  a  fool !  Let  them  fight  who  have  something  to 
gain.  If  twenty  thousand  is  all  I  am  to  receive,  I  will 
take  the  paltry  sum  and  make  the  best  of  it." 

And  saying  this,  Adam  withdrew.  He  was  satisfied, 
that  the  will  which  his  father  had  made  did  not  express 
his  true  purpose  ;  that  it  had  been  extorted  from  him  in 
some  moment  of  weakness,  or  derangement ;  and  that, 
if  an  attempt  were  made  to  resist  its  provisions,  the  court 
would  pronounce  it  null  and  void.  But,  why  should  he 
involve  himself  in  the  cost,  vexations,  and  delays  of  a 
law-suit,  which,  if  decided  in  his  favor,  would  leave  him 
no  better  off?  Adam  was  shrewdly  selfish  enough  to 
comprehend  the  folly  of  such  a  course,  as  affecting  his 
own  position,  and  no  motive  of  good  will,  or  care  for  his 
brothers  and  sisters,  could  induce  him  to  enter  a  contest 
designed  alone  for  their  benefit.  The  sentiment,  "  every 
one  for  himself,"  expressed  accurately  his  state  of  feeling. 
He  comprehended  no  interests  but  his  own. 

The  more  carefully  and  soberly  Adam  considered  the 


NOTHING    BUT    MONEY.  347 

stipulations  of  his  father's  will,  the  clearer  did  it  become 
manifest,  that  his  wisest  coui'se  was  to  accept  its  provis 
ions  as  affecting  himself.  There  were  too  many  to  share 
in  the  results  of  a  law-suit,  as  against  the  instrument,  if 
carried  to  a  successful  issue.  And  besides,  if  he  con 
tested  the  will,  he  must  forego  its  benefits,  and  so  be 
kept  from  any  share  in  the  estate  until  a  final  decision 
by  the  last  court  of  appeal  to  which  the  case  could  be 
taken. 

In  considering  the  case  of  John  and  Lydia,  Adam  had 
no  fault  to  find  with  his  father's  will.  Ten  thousand 
dollars  in  trust  for  John,  he  considered  a  fair  appropria 
tion  to  one  of  his  spendthrift  habits.  The  devise  in 
trust,  so  that  only  the  interest  could  be  used,  met  his 
entire  approval.  As  for  Lydia,  one  thousand  or  one 
hundred  was  all  the  same  to  him.  They  had  parted 
company  in  life  ;  their  roads  had  taken  a  sharp  diver 
gence,  and  could  never  run  side  by  side  again.  To 
wards  Edwin  and  Francis,  Adam  was  coldly  indifferent. 
He  could  part  company  with  them  also,  and  not  suffer  a 
pang.  As  for  his  half  brothers  and  sister,  they  not  only 
shared  the  dislike  with  which  he  had  always  regarded 
his  step-mother,  but  were  held  to  be  interlopers  —  in 
truders,  who  had  come  in  to  wrong,  and  who  had 
wronged  by  their  presence  the  first  heirs  of  his  father. 
If  we  put  the  case  stronger,  and  say  that  he  hated 
them,  our  words  would  more  accurately  express  the 
truth. 

So,  without  a  movement  looking  towards  investigation, 
although  he  entertained  the  strongest  suspicions  in  regard 
to  the  means  by  which  this  will  was  obtained,  Adam,  on 


348  NOTHING    BUT    MONEY. 

reaching  his  twenty-first  year,  accepted  his  share  of  the 
estate,  which  was  promptly  paid  by  the  executor,  and 
then,  resolutely,  in  heart,  turned  himself  away  from  all 
kith  and  kin,  resolved  to  be  alone  in  the  world,  and  all 
for  himself. 

Three  months  afterwards,  John  returned  from  his  sea 
voyage.  He  was  changed,  and  for  the  worse.  From 
being  sensual  and  depraved  he  had  become  cruel  and 
desperate  also.  During  a  portion  of  the  voyage  home 
ward  the  captain  had  been  obliged  to  put  him  in  irons 
for  mutinous  conduct.  He  exhibited  no  natural  emotions 
on  hearing  of  his  father's  death ;  but  asked?almost  immedi 
ately,  in  regard  to  the  will.  His  first  interview  with 
Mr.  Larobe,  during  which  a  copy  of  the  will  was  -placed 
in  his  hands,  took  on  a  stormy  character.  He  denounced 
the  instrument  as  a  fraud,  and  swore  that  he  would  con 
test  it  through  every  court  in  the  land.  From  the  law 
yer's  office  he  went  in  search  of  Adam  and  soon,  by  his 
violent  language  and  unjust  insinuations,  stirred  his 
brother's  cooler  blood  with  passion.  Sharp  words  passed 
and  anger  grew  hot.  Both  were  mad  and  blind.  In 
his  ungovernable  rage,  John  struck  a  blow  that  scarcely 
touched  his  brother  before  he  was  himself  lying  stunned 
upon  the  floor.  As  he  arose,  he  drew  a  dirk  ;  but  Adam, 
who  was  cooler  and  stronger,  caught  his  arm  and 
wrenched  the  instrument  of  death  from  his  hand.  At 
the  same  time,  he  pulled  the  bell-rope,  saying  as  he  did 
so  — 

"  Take  my  advice,  and  go ;  for,  just  so  sure  as  you 
remain  until  the  servant  comes,  I  will  send  for  an  officer 
and  have  you  arrested." 


NOTHING    BUT    MONEY.  349 

John  stood  glaring  upon  him  with  wicked,  murderous 
eyes,  evidently  under  the  impulse  to  spring  like  a  wild 
beast  at  his  throat. 

"  Go  !  "  Adam  Avaved  his  hand.  "  From  this  hour 
you  stand  to  me  as  a  stranger." 

"  And  an  enemy  !  "  John  flung  the  words  madly 
through  his  lips. 

"  Suit  yourself  in  that ;  but  go  !  I  hear  the  servant's 
feet." 

John  stood  hesitating  for  a  moment,  and  then,  with  a 
long,  wicked,  devouring  look  at  his  brother,  moved 
backwards  to  the  door,  and  opening  it  passed  out. 

The  servant  came  in  immediately  afterwards. 

"  Did  you  see  the  man  who  left  here  just  now  ?  "  asked 
Adam. 

"  Yes  sir  ;"  replied  the  servant. 

"  Will  you  know  him  ?  " 

"  Yes  sir." 

"  Very  well.  Now  remember  Henry,  that  if  he  calls 
again  he  is  not  to  come  to  my  room  on  any  pretence. 
You  understand  me  ?  " 

"  I  do,  sir." 

"  Say  always  that  I  am  not  in ;  and  be  sure  to  let  me 
know  when  he  calls." 

"  Yes  sir." 

"  Should  he  attempt  to  force  himself  up  here,  restrain 
him,  and  if  necessary  hand  him  over  to  a  policeman." 

All  of  which  the  servant  promised  to  do.  But  John 
did  not  call 'a  second  time.  He  had  nothing  to  gain  by 
a  contest  with  Adam,  and  so  stood  far  away  from  him, 
with  hate  instead  of  brotherly  kindness  in  his  heart. 


350  NOTHING    BUT    MONEY 

His  conduct  towards  his  step-mother  was  of  a  character 
that  soon  gave  her  warrant  to  forbid  him  coming  to  the 
house,  and  she  did  not  hesitate  to  accept  the  issue.  And 
so,  ere  he  had  reached  his  twentieth  year,  the  second  son 
of  Adam  Guy,  hopelessly  enslaved  to  appetite  and  pas 
sion,  and  desperate  in  feeling,  stood  as  completely  alone 
in  the  world  as  if  no  kindred  blood  were  in  other  veins. 

To  the  husband  of  Lydia  on  her  authority,  had  been 
paid  the  small  legacy  tendered  in  her  father's  will.  Her 
proud  spirit  would  have  rejected  this  mean  award;  but 
the  man  who  called  himself  her  husband  was  of  a  different 
mould.  He  had  married  her  for  money,  and  now  took 
whatever  he  could  get ;  but  took  it  in  a  spirit  of  angry 
disappointment. 

The  three  older  children  effectually  out  of  her  way, 
and  Edwin  and  Francis  disposed  of  under  the  will,  so 
far  as  a  share  of  their  father's  property  was  concerned, 
Mrs.  Guy,  as  residuary  legatee  to  her  husband's  hand 
some  estate,  sat  down  in  her  calm  dignity  feeling  that 
the  long  looked  for  time  had  come  at  last,  when  wealth 
and  position  were  hers  in  actual  right,  and  there  wras 
none  to  interpose  word  or  act  in  contravention.  Did 
no  pity  come  into  her  heart  ?  Did  not  the  image  of 
poor  Lydia  sometimes  intrude  itself  and  plead  for  a 
larger  share  in  her  father's  estate?  Mrs.  Guy  had  no 
weaknesses.  She  was  a  woman  of  will  and  purpose ; 
but  not  much  ideality.  If  fancy  did  now  and  then  con 
jure  up  what  are  called  unreal  things,  they  had  no  power 
to  disturb  the  icy  repose  of  her  spirit.  A  fit  counter 
part  was  she  for  Adam  Guy  the  elder ;  but,  in  meeting, 
she  had  proved  the  stronger  spirit,  and,  by  a  transfusion 


NOTHING    BUT    MONEY.  351 

of  power,  absorbed  his  freedom  to  a  degree  that  made 
him  almost  passive  in  her  hands.  So,  she  accomplished 
her  will,  and  in  that  accomplishment,  set  at  naught  all 
the  cherished  ends  of  a  man,  who  felt  that  when  he  built 
his  house  on  the  solid  foundations  of  gold,  it  was  storm 
proof  and  time-proof. 

Oh,  man  !  whoever  thou  art  —  wherever  thou  art  — 
oh,  man,  in  whose  mind  the  thought  of  gold  as  the  high 
est  good  shines  ever  as  a  star  of  brightest  promise,  take 
into  your  heart,  and  ponder  it  well,  the  life  history  we 
have  given.  Moral  and  mental  causes  work  to  corres 
ponding  effects,  just  as  unerringly  as  manifest  causes. 
Selfish  ends  defeat  themselves  by  a  law  of  compensation 
as  inevitable  as  fate,  for  the  germs  of  disaster  are  hidden 
in  them  at  birth.  In  the  degree  that  a  man  says  in  his 
heart,  "  Nothing  but  money  !  "  just  in  that  degree  does 
he  build  on  a  false  foundation  ;  just  in  that  degree  does 
he  put  his  gold  in  unsafe  caskets.  Avarice  is  blind  in 
all  directions  but  one,  and  there  it  sets  watch  and  ward  ; 
but,  while  guarding  approaches  from  this  side  with  sleep 
less  fidelity,  enemies  of  whose  existence  no  perception 
gives  warning  to  the  inner  sense  draw  nearer  and  near 
er,  to  work  a  final  ruin,  and  they  strike  not  until  the 
thrust  is  surely  fatal.  If  a  man  stood  simply  alone  turn 
ing  himself  by  a  kind  of  spiritual  alchemy  into  gold  ;  or, 
by  something  or*  that  process  of  displacement,  and  ab 
sorption  of  new  elements,  that  we  see  in  petrefactions, 
chano-ino-  from  a  vitalized  human  spirit,  into  a  dead  form 

O        O  A 

of  avarice  —  the  curse  of  a  predominant  evil  love  would 
rest  alone  with  himself.  When  he  went  down  in  the 
sea  of  life,  there  would  be  few  signs  of  shipwreck  on 


352  NOTHING    BUT    MONEY. 

wave  or  shore.  But,  not  standing  alone,  and  yet  being 
false  to  nearly  every  scocial  and  home  duty,  how  fear 
fully  disastrous  must  the  end  be  !  Not  in  the  devotion 
of  our  lives  to  any  great  leading  purpose,  do  we  secure 
final  success  and  happiness  ;  but  in  the  devotion  of  our 
lives  to  an  end  that  looks  to  other's  good.  Few,  if  any, 
so  devote  themselves,  and  few,  if  any,  are  successful  and 
happy.  —  Still,  the  truth  remains.  Avarice  and  ambi 
tion  are  the  most  powerfully  active  of  all  selfish  impulses, 
and  drive  some  men  onward  in  the  world  at  almost  the 
tempest's  speed  ;  but,  avarice  and  ambition  always  leave 
ruin  behind  them  —  moral  and  spiritual  ruin,  over 
which  the  good  mourn  in  unavailing  sorrow. 


THE   END. 


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Cutlibert   Bode. 

VERDANT  GREEN.— A    rollicking,  humorous  novel  of   English 

studentlife;  with  200  comic  illustrations,    izmo.  cloth,  $1.50 

NEARER  AND  DEARER.— A  novel,  illustrated,    izmo.  clo.  $1.50 

Bichard  B.  Klmball. 
WAS  HE  SUCCESSFUL?—       A  novel.  izmo.  cloth,  $1.75 

UNDERCURRENTS.—                          do.                               do.  $1.75 

SAINT  LEGER.—                                     do.                                do.  $1.75 

UOMANCE  OF  STUDENT  LIFE.—   do.                               do.  $1.75 

IN  THE  TROPICS.— Edited  by  R.  B.  Kimball.         do.  $1.75 

Epes  Sargent. 

PECULIAR.— One  of  the  most  remarkable  and  successful  novel- 
published  in  this  country.       .         .          izmo.  cloth,  $1.75 


BY  OEO.    W.   CA.RLETON,  NEW  YORK. 


A.  S.  Roe's  Work*. 

A.  LONG  LOOK  AHEAD.—             A  novel.  12IT1O.  cloth,    $1.50 

TO  LOVE  AND  TO  BE  LOVED.—     do.      .  .  do.  $1.50 

TIME  AND  TIDE.—                               do.      .  .  do.  $1.50 

I'VE  BEEN  THINKING.—                   do.      .  .  do.  $1.50 

111 E  STAR  AND  THE  CLOUD.—      do.      .  .  do.  $1.50 

TRUE  TO  THE  LAST.—                     do.      .  .  do.  81.5; 

HOW  COULD  HE  HELP  IT.—           do.      .  .  do.  $1.50 

LIKE  AND  UNLIKE.—                        do.      .  .  do.  $1.50 

A  NEW  NOVEL.— In  Press.  do.         $1.50 

IV alter  Barrett,  Clerk. 

OLD  MERCHANTS  OF  NEW  YORK.— Being  personal  incidents, 
interesting  sketches,  bits  of  biography,  and  gossipy  events 
in  the  life  of  nearly  every  leading  merchant  in  New  York 
City.  Three  series.  .  .  izmo.  cloth,  each,  $1.75 

T.  S.  Arthur's  New  "Works. 

LIGHT  ON  SHADOWED  PATHS.— A  novel.  12mo.  cloth,  $1.50 

OUT  IN  THE  WORLD.—  do.  .  do.  $1.50 

NOTHING  BUT  MONEY—  do.  .  do.  $1.50 

Orpheus   C.  Kerr. 

ORPHEUS  C.  KERR  PAPEiiS.— Two  series.       izmo.  cloth,  $1.50 
THE  PALACE  BEAUTIFUL.— And  other  poems,      do.         $1.50 

M.  MTichelet's  Work* 

LOVE  (L' AMOUR).— From  the  French.  izmo.  cloth,  $1.50 

WOMAN  (LA  FEMME.)—  do.  .  do.  $1.50 

WOMAN'S  PHILOSOPHY;  OF  WOMAN.— By  Hericourt,   do.     $1.50 

Novels  by  Rufflnl. 

DR.  ANTONIO.— A  love  story  of  Italy.  izmo.  cloth,  fi-75 

LAVINIA ;   OR,  THE  ITALIAN  APvTIST.—  do. 

VINCENZO;     OR,   SUNKEN    ROCKS.—  8vo.  cloth,   $1-75 

Rev  John  Cumraiiig,  ».».,  of  London. 

THE  GREAT  TRIBULATION.— Two  series.         izmo.  cloth,  $1.50 

THE  GREAT  PREPARATION.—         do.  .  do.  $1.50 

THE  GREAT  CONSUMMATION.—     do.  .  do.  tl.$0 

Jbrnest  Renan. 

CHE  LIFE  OF  JESUS.-Translated  by  C.  E.  Wilbour  from  the 

celebrated  French  work.         .         .          izmo.  cloth,  $1.75 

RELIGIOUS  HISTORY  AND  CRITICISM.-  8vO.  cloth,  1 2. 50 

€uyler  Pine. 

MARY  BRANDEGEE.— An  American  novel.       In  press. 

A.  NEW  NOVEL.— In  <bress.   ..       .        .        •        •        *1>7S 


LIST  OF  BOOKS  PUBLISHED 


diaries  Rcade. 

THE  CLOISTER  AND  THE  HEARTH.— A  magnificent  new  novel,  b) 
the  author  of  "Hard  Cash,"  etc.  .  8vo.  cloth,  $2.00 
The  Opera. 

TAXES  FROM  THE  OPERAS.— A  collection  of  clever  stories,  based 
upon  the  plots  of  all  the  famous  operas.  I2mo.  cl.,  $1.50 

J.  C.  JeafTreson. 

A  BOOK  ABOUT  DOCTORS.— An  exceedingly  humorous  and  en 
tertaining  vo'ume  of  sketches,  stories,  and  facts,  about 
famous  physicians  and  surgeons.  izmo.  cloth,  $1.75 

Fred.  S.  Cozzens. 

THE  SPARROWGEASS  PAPERS —A  capital  humorous  work,  with 
illustrations  by  Darley.  .  .  izmo.  cloth,  $1.50 

F.  D.  GuerrazzL 

BEATRICE  CENCI.— A  great  historical  novel.  Translated  from 
the  Italian  ;  with  a  portrait  of  the  Cenci,  from  Guide's 
famous  picture  in  Rome.  .  .  izmo.  cloth,  $1.75 

Private  Miles  O'Reilly. 

His  BOOK.— Comic  songs,  speeches,  &c.        izmo.  cloth,  $1.50 
A  NEW  BOOK.— In  press.  .        .        .        do.         $1.50 

Tlie  New  York   Central  Park. 

A  SUPERB  GIFT  BOOK.— The  Central  Park  pleasantly  described, 
and  magnificently  embellished  with  more   than  50  exquisite 
photographs  of  the  principal  views  and  objects  of  interest. 
A   large    quarto    volume,   sumptuously   bound   in  Turkey 
morocco,  .......     $30.00 

Joseph  Rodman  Drake. 

THE  CULPRIT  FAT.— The  most  charming  faery  poem  in  the 
English  language.  Beautifully  printed.  I2mo.  cloth,  75  cts. 

Mother  Goose  for  Grown  Folks. 

HUMOROUS  RHYMES  for  grown  people ;  based  upon  the  famous 
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Mrs. . 

FAIRY  FINGERS.— A  new  novel.  In  press,     izmo.  cloth,  $1.75 

THE  MUTE  SINGER.—       do.  do.  do.  $1-75 

Robert  B.  Roosevelt. 

THE  GAME  FISH  OF  THE  NORTH.— Illustrated.     1  2mo.  cl.  $2.OC 

A  NEW  BOOK  ON  SPORTING.—  do.         In  press.  $2.oo 

John    Phoenix. 

THE  BUTTERFIELD  PAPERS.— A  new  comic  book  by  "Squibob," 
with  humorous  illustrations.  In  press.  V  .  $1.50 


BY  GEO.  W.  CA.RLETON,  NEW  YORK. 


N.  H.  Chamberlain. 

THE  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF  A  NEW  ENGLAND  F ARM-HOUSE.— $1.75 

Amelia  H.  Edwards. 

BALLADS.— By  author  of  "  Barbara's  History."  $1.50 

S.  M.  Johnson. 

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Captain  Semmes. 

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Hcwos  Gordon. 
LOVERS  AND  THINKERS.— A  new  novel.     In  Press.    .     $1.75 

Caroline  May. 

POEMS.— Just  published.  .         .         .         I2mo.  cloth,  81.50 

Slavery. 

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Railroad  and  Insurance 

ALMANAC  FOR  1865.— Full  of  Statistics.        .     8vo.  cloth,  $2.00 
Stephen  Massett. 

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Thomas  Bailey  Aldrich. 

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Richard  H.  Stoddard. 

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THE  MOEGESONS.— A  novel.     By  Mrs.  R.  H.  Stoddard.  $1.50 

Edmund  C.  Stedman. 

ALICE  OP  MONMOUTH.— A  new  poem.  12010.  cloth,  $1.25 

LYRICS  AND  IDYLS.—         .  .  .  •  do.  $1.25 

M.  T.  Walworth. 

LULU.-A  new  novel.        .        .        .         lanao.  cloth,  f  1.50 
HOTSPUR.-    do do-        »*'5r 

Author  of  "  Olie." 
NEPENTHE.-A  new  novel.         .         .         I2mo.  cloth,  $1. 50 

TOGE1HER.-  do.  .  .  do.  $1.50 

Quest. 
A  NEW  ROMANCE.-  .  .  •  izmo.  cloth,  $1.50 

Victoire. 
A  NEW  NOVEL.-       .  .  •  12m0'  cloth>  »U7S 

James  H.  Hackett. 
NOTES  AND  COMMENTS  ON  SHAKSPEARE.-  izmo.  cloth,  Vi^Q 


8      LIST  OF  BOOKS  PUBLISHED  BT  CARLETON,  NEW  YORK. 

Miscellaneous  Works. 

JOHN  GUILDERSTRIN'G'S  SIN.— A  novel.  .  I2mo.  cloth,  $1.50 
CENTEOLV.— By  author  "  Green  Mountain  Boys."  do.  81.50 

RKD  TAPE  AND   PIGEON-HOLE  GENERALS.—    .  do.          $1.50 

THE  PARTISAN  LEADER.— By  Beverly  Tucker.  do.  $1.50 
ADAM  GUROWSKI.— Washington  diary  for  1863.  do.  $1.50 
TREATISE  ON  DEAFNESS.— By  Dr.  E.  B.  Lighthill.  do.  81.50 

THE  PRISONER  QV  STATE.— By  D.  A.  Mahoney.  do.  $1.50 
AROUND  THE  PYRAMIDS.— By  Gen.  Aaron  Ward.  do.  81.50 

CHINA  AND   THE   CHINESE.— By  W.  L.  G.  Smith,    do.         $1.50 

THE  WINTHROPS.— A  novel  by  J.  R.  Beckwith.  do.  $1.75 
SPREES  AND  SPLASHES.— By  Henry  Morford.  do.  81.50 
GARRET  VAN  HORN.— A  novel  by  J.  S.  Sauzade.  do.  81.50 

SCHOOL  FOR  THE  SOLDIER.— By  Capt.  Van  Ness.  do.  50  cts. 

THE  YACHTMAN'S  PRIMER.— By  T.  R.  Warren,  do.  50  cts. 
EDGAR  POE  AND  His  CRITICS.— By  Mrs.  Whitman,  do.  $1.00 
ERIC;  OR,  LITTLE  BY  LITTLE.— By  F.  W.  Farrar.  do.  81.50 
SAINT  WINIFRED'S.— By  the  author  of  "  Eric."  do.  81.50 

A  WOMAN'S  THOUGHTS  ABOUT  WOMEN—       .  do.         $1.50 

THE  SE,A.-~ By  Michelet,  author  of  "Love."  do.       $1.50 

MARRIED  OFF.— Illustrated  satirical  poem.  .  do.  50  cts. 
SCHOOL-DAYS  OF  EMINENT  MEN.— By  Timbs.  do.  $1.50 

ROMANCE  OF  A  POOR  YOUNG  MAN.—   .  .  do.         $1.50 

THE  FLYING  DUTCHMAN.— J.  G.  Saxe,  illustrated,  do.  75  cts. 

ALEXANDER  VON  HUMBOLDT.— Life  and  travels,  do.  81.50 
LIFE  OF  HUGH  MILLER— The  celebrated  geologist,  do.  81.50 
LYRICS  OF  A  DAY— or,  newspaper  poetry.  .  do.  81.00 

THE  u.  8.  TAX  LAW.— "  Government  Edition."  do.  81.00 
TACTICS  ;  or,  Cupid  in  Shoulder-Straps.  .  do.  81.50 
MARKED  FOR  LIFE.— Edited  by  "Marley."  .  do.  81.00 

DEBT  AND  GRACE.-By  Rev.  C.  F.  Hudson.  do.  81.75 

THE  RUSSIAN  BALL.-Illustrated  satirical  poem.     do.  50  cts. 

THE  SNOBLACE  BALL.-     do.  do.       do.  do.  50  Cts. 

THE   CHURCH  IN  THE  AKMY.-By  Dr.  Scott.  do.          $1.75 

TEACH  us  TO  PRAY.-By  Dr.  Gumming.       .         do.  81.50 

AN  ANSWER  TO  HUGH  MILLER.-By  T.  A.  Davies.  do.         81.50 

COSMOGONY.-BV  Thomas  A.  Davies.     .         8vo.  cloth,  82.00 

TWENTY  YEARSaround  the  World.    J.  Guy  Vassar.  do.  83.75 

THE  SLAVE  POWER.-By  J.  E.  Cairnes.  .  .  do.  82.00 
RURAL  ARCUlTECTURE.-By  M.  Field,  illustrated,  do.  82.00 


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